The Rogue's Salute
by Vi Co
Summary: A recently discovered chronicle by John H. Watson, MD. Publication of Part II is completed. Publication of Part III is on-going.
1. Part I Chapter I

I had settled myself at the urging of my friend Sherlock Holmes in the comfortable chair before the fire in his lodgings at Baker Street. I had stopped in at my former quarters at the conclusion of a professional visit in the near neighbourhood, taking the opportunity to see what cases had consumed my friend's interests since the last time I had had occasion to see him. A series of morning papers lay piled to the side of the sofa, but the pages were unmarked, so I knew that whatever problems were consuming his active mind did not relate to the most recent events.

"You have been busy these past weeks in the east of the city, have you not?" asked Holmes, finally turning from his chemistry equipment to survey me. He had just been concluding an experiment when I was shown up and had gestured distractedly for me to take his customary seat. I had sat in silence, warming myself by the roaring fire as he finished his work.

"I suppose that you have deduced that from the spatters of mud on my shoes?" inquired I, familiar with his methods.

"Your newest housemaid is much too careful a creature for me to have made that observation," replied Holmes, crossing over to the window. "No, my dear Watson, my deductions were not based on the mud of your shoes. And as you have been in this area all day, the mud on your trousers could not have yielded up that information to me."

"Well, what then?" demanded I. I was sure that there was nothing on my person that could have led him to that conclusion.

"You are a man of habit, Watson," Holmes told me. "You have not been past in several weeks, for you are in the habit of stopping when you are near enough, and when times are slow for you in your practice, you often make excuse to visit. So I may deduce that you have been busy in other parts of the city."

"Simple enough," said I. "But what of the east part of the city if you cannot observe mud spatters on my shoes?"

"That information comes to me through the papers," Holmes informed me. "You must have been busier than I had initially concluded if you have not had the time to read them."

I sighed.

"Did you not wonder why I motioned for you to take the comfortable chair?" inquired Holmes, wandering over to the window. "Even if I had not been able to make the previous deductions, I could see by the drawn nature of your brow that it has not been an easy time for you since last we met. I would have been sorely remiss to have forced you to take any but that chair, close by the fire."

"This is yet another time that I am grateful for your foresight," I told Holmes, passing a hand over the brow that had revealed so much of my state. Physicians from various parts of London had all been called in to the east to help contain a rapidly spreading illness.

"My dear Watson," said Holmes with concern, turning from the window. "I had not realized that things were so bad as that."

"The authorities were anxious not to have the true danger spread for fear of causing a panic," revealed I. "It was only very narrowly that we managed to contain the epidemic entirely to the eastern quarter of the city. There were fears that it would sweep the city."

"I had suspicions of as much," admitted Holmes. "The newspaper reports of the situation were much lacking in sensational details. Which, of course, led me to the simple deduction that the details were too sensational for even our reporters to report."

I nodded, completely worn out with the events of the past weeks. It was only by seeing my customary patients late at night and early in the morning that I had been able to keep from completely neglecting my practice.

"Have you eaten?" inquired Holmes. "Mrs Hudson has not yet brought up my dinner and by making it a supper, I am sure that she can be convinced to add an extra plate for you."

"I would be grateful," said I. "My wife is visiting in the country and Anna Marie, the housemaid who takes such care with my boots, is in the custom of only setting out a cold plate for me, so late have I been in returning home lately." In fact, I had been kept busy enough that I had not even had the chance to make the small preparations necessary for me to retake my habitation with Holmes, as was my general custom when my wife was not at home.

Holmes nodded and immediately started for the stairs, to inform the landlady of the change in plans. Even in only the short time that Holmes was absent from the room, I very nearly fall asleep before the warm fire.

But I started awake when I heard Holmes come bounding up the stairs in an excitable fashion that was usually quite unlike my friend. "My dear doctor," said Sherlock Holmes earnestly, "I will have to ask you to vacate that chair and draw yourself another close to the fire."

I sprang immediately up out of the chair, all traces of weariness gone from my body. I knew Holmes well enough to know that he would not begrudge me the seat, and my experiences in Afghanistan had prepared me sufficiently to instantly rouse myself to full wakefulness when it was necessary. Holmes did not say anything to indicate it, but rather drawing up a chair, I moved instead to my medical bag, standing in the corner where I had placed it upon entering.

Holmes noted my action with a nod of approval before bounding back down the stairs. "We have a new client," he called back over his swiftly retreating shoulder.

My brow furrowed in confusion. Never had I seen him so anxious to greet a client before, always previously trusting either the landlady or the page-boy to show the visitors up. Either this client was exceedingly well known, or there was some other reason for Holmes's actions.

When he reappeared in the door to the sitting room, I was instantly shown the reason for his haste. Our visitor was a lady, of no more than five and twenty, but one that I was surprised to see travelling about, especially alone. I immediately hurried to her, helping Holmes aid her to the chair that I had so recently abandoned.

Although she was plainly dressed, her attire was not of the common working class, and I would rather have hazarded that the severity of her dress was as a result of her condition rather than for any other reason. She was in a quite delicate state, and, although I could not be entirely certain, I was quite sure that she should have entered her period of confinement some weeks ago.

"Holmes," I snapped out efficiently, "fetch us up some tea from Mrs Hudson." It was a cool, wet day, and I had no intention of allowing her to catch a chill.

It was quite the reversal of roles for the two of us; usually Sherlock Holmes was in control of the situation while I gave him my aid however I could best. But this was a case in which I felt quite justified in taking things up in hand. Obviously my friend felt the same, for he immediately acted upon my instructions.

"I assure you, Mr Holmes," protested our visitor, pressing a hand to her side, "that I am quite all right. You need not trouble yourself."

But Holmes had already vanished from the room and I hovered near her. "Nonsense," said I. "It is no trouble at all. I am Doctor Watson, and my friend Sherlock Holmes will return in just a moment."

"I thank you, doctor," she sighed, drawing her veil back from her face and leaning back into the chair. I was glad to see that she appeared to be no worse for the journey, but still had my concerns about her state. "I am exceedingly grateful for your presence."

I started, taking half a step toward my bag in the corner. I did not usually carry it with me in this area, but with the business of the past weeks, I had brought it with me on the chance that I would have need of it.

She laughed, a musical sound that helped to relieve some of my worries. "Oh, no, doctor," she protested, stretching out a thin hand to me, "not in that way. Please, calm yourself."

I stopped in my path, turning to look at her. Her face was slightly pale, but her complexion was not sickly. I assumed that it was from the chill and felt I would rest much easier once she had had something warm to drink, although it was not the general case for women in that way. Her features were pleasant enough, although she was obviously troubled with something. But then if she were not troubled with something serious, she would not have sought out Sherlock Holmes.

Holmes himself was back upstairs only a moment later, bearing aloft a tray of good china cups and a steaming pot of tea. He poured one for our guest, and I was happy to see the tea emerge from the pot strong and dark. I would be a good sight more comfortable once some colour had returned to the lady's pale face.

"Mr Holmes," she started, her voice firm, "I have come to you on a matter…"

I interrupted. "Surely the matter can wait until such time as you have had something to drink," urged I in a voice that left no room for argument, not even from the astute mind of Holmes, should he have had reason to object.

But Holmes appeared to have none and poured cups of the brew for both himself and for me. I drew up a chair, quite close to that of the visiting lady, and accepted the cup from Holmes. He had prepared it in the fashion that I was accustomed to take it, our period of shared accommodation having acquainted him intimately with many of my habits.

I should have much preferred a brandy as a restorative to tea, but my medical instincts cautioned me that the restorative properties of the tea would have to suffice for the lady's condition, and my sense of propriety would not allow me to take brandy when our visitor was offered only tea. Holmes, I was quite sure, would also have rather had brandy, but he too contented himself with a steaming cup of the brew.


	2. Part I Chapter II

The three of us made no conversation while the woman obligingly drank down the tea. She had removed the hat from her head when it was apparent that Sherlock Holmes and I would not be contented until we were certain that she was comfortable and well, and revealed a mass of curling brown hair, hastily arranged. Her eyes were keen and a deep blue, and her high brow revealed an intelligence that was also apparent in the set of her rosy lips.

When she had completed her cup of tea and warmed herself before the fire, some colour had returned to her cheeks. I was as sure as I could be that she was of strong constitution and in no immediate medical danger. She looked to me, almost as if she were seeking permission before continuing. I nodded to her and she laid aside her cup.

"Mr Holmes," she began again, a touch of amusement in her voice, "now that your friend has determined me able enough to speak, I will tell you something of the matter that has brought me here."

"Do not tax yourself," urged Holmes. "Perhaps I shall rather begin by telling you what I know of you. And you may fill in the details from where I leave off."

"You need not concern yourself with me," she replied leaning forward in her chair, her voice firm and resolute. "I am quite well."

"Go on, Holmes," said I, much more at ease when she was reclining back comfortably in her chair.

"Might I be blunt?" asked Holmes, obviously not wanting to offend the lady's sensibilities.

"If you are so determined to have me rest," she answered, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms, "then please do not hesitate to speak plainly. My sensibilities are not so delicate as may be first presumed."

"When do you expect your husband back from sea?" inquired Holmes.

"Not for several weeks, at the least," she informed him, not the least bit surprised with his question. "The vessel left some months ago, as part of a convoy to the east."

"Does he know of your condition?" asked Holmes sharply, looking unabashedly at her swollen middle. Our visitor's expression did not change, but my own face flushed with Holmes's boldness.

"I shouldn't think so. It is hardly such a thing as may be trusted to a mere letter."

"Holmes," I broke in. "You have even bothered to get the lady's name!"

"Oh," commented he, "but I have no need to inquire. She insisted upon introducing herself prior to being helped up the stairs. Although that help was difficult enough to insist upon."

"I apologize, Doctor Watson," said she sweetly. "You had missed the introduction. I am Mrs Marian Kendrick, and I am sorry to have startled you earlier." She sounded contrite. "When I said that I was glad that you were here, I meant not as a physician per se, but rather as a former Army man."

I was surprised at that. "How the…"

"Language, Watson," Holmes interrupted with some amusement. "There's a lady present."

I had had no intention of saying anything that would be inappropriate for the lady's ears, but I was duly chastised nonetheless. "I assure you, Mrs Kendrick," I started awkwardly.

"Think nothing of it," she replied good-naturedly. "I have spent much time around sailors and nothing you could say would shock me."

"Your husband," said I.

"I should think," interrupted Holmes, "that it was not her husband to whom she referred, but rather to her time spent nursing at the naval hospital."

"Quite right, Mr Holmes," she agreed amiably. She didn't appear surprised in the least to hear Holmes's revelation. I, on the other hand, was shocked.

"Now, Holmes, how can you tell that?" I couldn't help but ask.

"I would imagine that it is merely the matter of a simple deduction," Mrs Kendrick spoke up. "A husband would be unlikely to use such language around his wife, so I would have had to have chance to encounter large numbers of sailors under conditions that they would be inclined to use foul language. The two cases that come most readily to hand would be either a seafront pub or a naval hospital. I'm sure inferences can be made on the basis of my attire that I am unlikely to have worked in a pub, leaving the latter as the most probable." She arched a brow delicately at Holmes. "Or am I remiss in my reasoning?"

To his credit, Holmes's face had a mild look of surprise upon it. "Why no," he told her gruffly. "Your reasoning is sound."

"Mr Holmes," she started again. "Would you care to continue to tell me what you have deduced? Or shall I begin to tell the story as I know it?"

"You may begin," commented Holmes wanly. He was obviously put out to have had his own game turned back upon him.

"Shall I tell all the facts as I know them, or shall I leave out just enough to make the inferences a task of mental concentration?" she asked archly.

"The facts, please," answered Holmes.

"As I'm sure you can figure from that which you have learned of me already," began Mrs Kendrick, "my husband is a naval man; a ship's surgeon on one of Her Majesty's ships. He had been wounded in a squall offshore and come for treatment at the naval hospital at which I was working. He was quite enraptured and proposed marriage. We were married not long after and he is currently in the East and is expected back some time within the month."

"I had deduced as much," noted Holmes dryly.

"You had wanted all the facts," replied she unapologetically.

"So I had," admitted Holmes.

I noted that she moved her hands from her lap to the arms of her chair, clutching slightly at the arms. I half-rose, intending to go again to my bag. "You may regain your seat, Doctor Watson," she assured me. "Your professional assistance will not be required tonight."

I mumbled some excuse about refilling the teacups and inquiring as to whether the lady took sugar. Holmes laughed, having immediately seen through my ruse. "I believe that you are overeager tonight, my dear doctor," noted Holmes. "Kindly remember that the lady herself has something of a medical background." Then to the lady, he commented, "Please continue."

"I lately received a letter posted from my husband," she went on, "instructing me to see to some business he had left unfinished prior to having been shipped out. Through correspondence, I attended to as much as I was able, and the rest I was forced to entrust to a dear friend of ours, a fellow naval man whose ship was then in the harbour."

"When was this letter received?" asked Holmes.

"Six days ago," she informed Holmes. "But it was posted on a much greater time ago."

"Of course."

"Much of the business I had been instructed to tend to was routine; accounts left untended and small kindnesses owed by the ship's company to the families of deceased sailors. My friend dealt with these matters. There was also some personal business that I conducted via correspondence, but these bear little enough upon the problem as it exists."

Normally Holmes would have insisted on knowing the details of the personal business, knowing that no detail could be too trivial. But he did not press the point, rather leaving Mrs Kendrick to continue on. Holmes was behaving strangely, and I half wondered if he was perhaps coming down with something. His normally sallow face was rather too flushed considering his relative location to the fire.

"The reason I have come to you, Mr Holmes, is that given the circumstances, I am unable to properly tend to matters myself. I know you are not in the nature of gathering facts yourself, rather having people bring the facts to you for proper resolution, but perhaps you will be willing to make an exception. The case is not overly complex at the moment, especially for a mind as keen as yours, but you, and your companion, are the only two that I may trust to carry through the matter to its conclusion," said she.

"You may rely on our utmost discretion," Holmes assured her.

"Oh," answered she, returning her hands to her lap, "I have no need of that assurance. I would much rather attend to things myself, for the thrill of the problem you understand, but am quite unable."

"I would imagine that you will be in quite enough trouble from your landlady when you return to your lodgings," noted Holmes.

"Should she learn where I have been, I would imagine so," agreed she. "As you can no doubt tell from the state of my hair and boots, she was unaware of my plans to leave."

"I confess that I had been quite unable to observe the details of your boots," admitted Holmes, "but your dress and hair provided quite enough details for me." He turned to me. "You see, Watson, the dress is several inches too long, and must therefore have been made initially for someone else, likely an older friend or companion. Her hair has been hastily arranged, likely in the few moments while the landlady was occupied with other business, for she would have had no occasion to have it pinned up while she was confined to the house."

"And that it was a landlady she was attempting to evade?"

"It could hardly have been her husband, even if he were not at sea," explained Holmes, "for no self-respecting husband would have allowed his wife to go about in such condition. Had she been living with either her family or her husband's family, she should have more likely sent one of them to us, or summoned us to her. The same holds if she were living with a friend. She and her husband are still newly married, and it would be unlikely that they would have purchased their own home. Which leaves a landlady, and probably one quite well-known to both husband and wife."

"She is, in fact, the wife of my husband's captain, who has insisted upon staying with me in my apartment until such time as she feels right leaving me to stay alone."

"You see, my dear Watson," said Holmes, "thus far nothing has been revealed that couldn't be deduced from the first impression. But I believe that we are coming to some of the more interesting details." He leaned back in his chair and brought the tips of his thin fingers together, closing his eyes.

"And so we are," replied Mrs Kendrick. "My friend, the one I had entrusted with the business that I was unable to tend to, returned to me this morning with a most intriguing letter. One of the widows sent back the note and pittance from the ship's company with this most unusual message." Here she withdrew a note from one of her sleeves, awkwardly levering herself up out of the chair so that she could pass the note across to Holmes.

I was across the room, still standing near the teapot, otherwise I should have immediately snatched the paper from her and prevented her from straining herself. As it was, I abandoned the teapot and hurried to her side, helping her to ease herself back into the comfort of the chair and snatching a pillow from the sofa to place behind the small her back.

Holmes watched my ministrations with a critical eye. "Are you quite finished, Watson?" he inquired lazily, making no effort to help me.

I noted that the lady's face had again gone quite pale and pressed her filled teacup into her hands. Her hands were trembling, although her face appeared quite composed. She was quite unlike any of Holmes's other clients, who generally were quite upset or concerned with the events that caused them to seek him out.

"Please," pleaded she quietly, "take your seat, doctor. My condition may be delicate, but I will not have you wearing yourself out over me. I know well that it has been a hard few weeks for both doctors and nurses and you have likely had little rest. I assure you again that I am in no imminent danger, but rather am just tired with my exertions of the day."

I could understand that and sank down into my own chair. Feeling the need of restoration, I took up my own teacup and waited for Holmes to finish with the note Mrs Kendrick had passed over to him. Holmes read it over several times, then turned over and over in his hands, and held it up to the light, as was his custom.


	3. Part I Chapter III

"What do you make of it?" said I once he had lowered the paper down to his lap.

"It is a curious paper," commented Holmes. "Thick and creamy, yet with an uncommon coarseness to it. No watermark visible, although there are faint impressions on the reverse."

"It is of the sort found in the front of a ship's logbook. If you look extremely carefully, those impressions are the notations of a journey," noted Mrs Kendrick. "Even during times of extreme emergency, the pages are rarely discarded, and that is how I have come to know them. We nurses were at times entrusted with the books while their keepers were being tended for wounds received."

"A logbook, you say," noted I with interest, leaning forward eagerly in my chair. I knew that the books were invaluable, the officers of a ship being charged with saving them in the event of any disaster.

"That is one of the difficulties with the note," Mrs Kendrick admitted. "I know the value of the books and the rarity of them, especially ashore."

"It is a singular point," said Holmes. He extended the paper across to me, intending to have me read the text aloud. "But only one among many. Do read it, Watson."

It was composed in poetry. "Round about the world doth go," read I.  
"Be men such fools they cannot know,  
"What ancient fates _they_ do now tempt.  
"None among them we shall _hold _exempt."

"What can you observe of the writing?" demanded Holmes.

"Although the rhymes are good and well-thought, the writing shows signs of haste," said I.

"Yet, the ink has been allowed to dry completely without blotting paper, all but two words." Mrs Kendrick noted, starting to lean eagerly forward. She caught my eye and returned to her former pose with a sigh, bringing her teacup up to her lips.

"Which shows signs of great care being taken," observed Holmes, "despite the haste with which the note was written."

"My friend thought nothing of the note, thinking that it was a formal thanks to the gentlemen of the ship's company or a note of congratulations to me, and unfortunately the note was some days old before I received it," Mrs Kendrick informed Holmes and I.

"Have you no further information about the sender of the note?" Holmes inquired.

"I was merely a conduit for the funds collected by the ship's company," answered Mrs Kendrick. "It is naval custom for sailors to give a portion of their wages for the upkeep of the families of their deceased shipmates. My husband is responsible for the distribution of the funds, for the paymaster is quite new to the ship and is as yet unfamiliar with the company."

"So you know nothing further?"

"She was the wife of a petty officer," answered she, "who was killed in a gale while rounding the Cape of Good Hope some years ago. She has no children, so far as I know, and remarried only a few weeks ago."

"The naval pittance is given only to those who have no other means of support," said I. "By remarrying, she would have forfeited the right to such things."

"Precisely," she confirmed. "But the pittance she was given was no great sum. It was hardly enough for the upkeep of even a child and is more of a formality than anything else. It is surely not enough to justify such a note. And that, Mr Holmes, is all that I know of this beyond a dark man that has been seen lurking outside of my lodgings for the past several nights."

"As you stated," said Holmes, "there are some facts that are sadly lacking in this case. However, I feel that it would be a sore disservice to you to refuse you, especially as you have gone to such trouble to come to us." Holmes was being surprisingly chivalrous and I was surprised at him. Then he added, "Besides, it is rarely that I have the chance to deduce future events from facts so intriguing as these." That was more in character of Sherlock Holmes.

"You mention a man," said I, wondering why Sherlock Holmes had not inquired further into the matter.

"Leave the lady be for a moment," admonished Holmes dreamily. "She is tired and Mrs Hudson will be up with supper at any moment. You will dine with us, will you not?" he inquired of Mrs Kendrick.

"It would be a pleasure," answered she.

"Good, good," Holmes said, rubbing his thin hands together eagerly. "Now, Watson," said he, "the landlady has no idea as to the nature of our visitor and I should think it best for her not to find out."

"Most certainly," I agreed, knowing that her sense of propriety would be sorely tried should she learn of Mrs Kendrick's condition. "It would be best if we all remained seated here until Mrs Hudson has retired back downstairs. It will be apparent that she is here, but with a careful placement of my chair, her details may easily be concealed from the landlady."

Holmes sprang from his chair, remarking, "You have made good study of the situation, my dear Watson." He dug out a chessboard from beneath some other books and passed it over to us.

I arranged my chair in the necessary way and placed the board on the table between our chairs, arranging the pieces so as to make it appear as though the two of us had been at the game for a good amount of time. The lady herself aided me in this task, much to the pleasure of Holmes.

I could not begin to fathom what thoughts were running through his quick mind. Surely there were not enough facts in the brief note and the sparse descriptions that the lady had provided. And yet, he had the look of pleasure on his face that only arose when he was embarking on some enjoyable mental exercise.

Steps were heard on the stairs only a short time later and it was not long before our supper was laid on the table and we three were again left alone. Our chess game, set up quite in my favour, had progressed slightly, and the lady was making remarkable advances considering the state her pieces had begun in.

"Shall we dine?" asked Sherlock Holmes when the door had closed and the footsteps retreated down the stairs and out of hearing. He stepped over to offer his assistance to Mrs Kendrick.

"I am quite fine, I assure you," said she, endeavouring to lift herself up out of the chair. But what with the softness of the cushions and the pillow I had earlier placed behind her, she was finding considerable difficulty in the task.

"Please, my dear Mrs Kendrick," said Holmes, catching up her arm, "I could never forgive myself if I did not act the gentleman and give you my aid."

I followed Holmes's lead and took up her other arm, helping to lift her up from the chair. "You need not be ashamed of accepting help," I told her softly as Holmes disappeared into his rooms for a moment. I had at once realized the nature of her reluctance to accept our help. "You are a singularly strong and capable woman, to have managed alone for so long, and to have taken such steps. But your husband would not want you to overtax yourself."

"You speak from experience, Doctor Watson," she noted, submitting herself to my guidance.

"Only from my brief experience in marriage," said I, helping Holmes lower her to one of the chairs. "And from the experience of being away from the country on campaign."

"Then you speak from the deepest of experience," she assured me with a sigh. "And you see why I was thankful when you introduced yourself to me." She shifted slightly uncomfortably upon the hard chair, but made no complaint.

This time it was Sherlock Holmes that was standing by to minister to her. He was ready with a box for her to prop her feet upon, a pillow for her back, and a blanket for her lap. "What was it that you said of my knowledge of medicine when we were first acquainted, Doctor Watson?" Holmes inquired when the lady was settled to his satisfaction.

"I said that it was variable," I replied, taking my own seat.

"And that is the end of my variance in this, my good doctor," declared Holmes jovially. "Further than this, I will be forced to entrust matters into your capable and well-trained hands."

We dined well, speaking nothing of the case at hand. I knew that Sherlock Holmes would return ere long to the issue of the dark man, but he was contented to wait until after we had dined and so I saw no reason to push the matter.

"I admit, Mrs Kendrick," said Sherlock Holmes as we ate, "that earlier you had quite surprised me. And as my friend can inform you, I am rarely surprised."

"On the matter of the naval hospital?" she inquired.

"A merest passing familiarity with my methods and a bit of imagination could have led to that," Holmes remarked. "No, it was rather on the manner of Doctor Watson's army background. The signs are not nearly so apparent now as they were when I first met him. He has even laid off his habit of keeping his handkerchief up his sleeve."

She laughed. "It was quite simple, Mr Holmes. Although he has been home for some time now, he still retains a hint of the upright bearing that is quite unique to military men. He has allowed his hair to grow out slightly, but he retains the abhorrence for a slovenly appearance; his face is haggard and tired, yet he is well shaved. And I should not be surprised if somewhere he bore the permanent marks of his service, for he is young to be an already retired Army doctor."

"Splendid," declared Holmes in delight. "I could not have done better myself." Coming from Holmes, it was the highest praise.

"And as to your deduction that my husband and I were newly married?" she inquired.

"As simple as could be," remarked Holmes with a chuckle of his own. "You have forgotten to put on your wedding ring. For women who have been married for long periods, to wear the ring is as a second nature and they are rarely seen without them."

"Your conclusion was correct," countered Mrs Kendrick. "But unfortunately, your facts are a bit wrong. I suppose that it may be forgiven considering you are a bachelor."

For a second time that night, Sherlock Holmes wore an unmistakeable look of surprise upon his face. "A newly married woman is equally as unlikely to go about without her ring," I informed him. "My own wife has not been seen without hers since I first presented it to her. I would hazard a guess that Mrs Kendrick bears her ring about with her, although she is unable to wear it."

Mrs Kendrick obliged by withdrawing a chain from her bosom, hanging from which was the wedding ring. "You see, Mr Holmes, it will no longer fit over my finger, which has swollen."

Holmes was duly chastised and left the remainder of the burden of conversation to me. Mrs Kendrick and I discussed several recent medical advances that had been published in the papers, and I quite enjoyed her intelligent conversation. I noted Holmes was listening with interest, although he did not join in. Perhaps he had determined to enlarge his store of medical knowledge, so as not to allow his deductions be led astray again.


	4. Part I Chapter IV

When we had returned to the circle of chairs near the fire, Holmes regained his tongue and inquired as the nature of the dark man that had been observed. Mrs Kendrick willingly provided him with the details and only once did Holmes have to interrupt to ask for clarification.

"I did not see him myself for the first few days but my landlady inquired several times whether I was expecting any visitors. As it was quite late both days when she asked, almost as I was preparing to retire to my bed, I thought the question strange, but did not think further of it," said Mrs Kendrick.

"When were you first made aware of him?" interrupted Holmes.

"It was Thursday, the day after I had sent my friend out to tend to matters and three days prior to today, when I next received word from my friend," she informed him. "Unfortunately, he only dropped the letter by in passing this morning and I was not ready to receive visitors so early. He couldn't wait and his ship left port this afternoon, bound for the colonies. So I have been quite unable to determine what day it was that he actually saw to matters.

"Last night, my interest piqued by my landlady's inquiries about a visitor, I contrived to sit near the window shortly before ten o'clock, at about the time that the two prior sightings had been made. The casement was open and the curtains drawn back, so I had a clear view down to the street. Both my landlady and I are sailor's wives and although we are perhaps more inclined than average to the outdoors, I had opened the window not to enjoy the night air, but so as to better observe.

"I was reading a monograph, because I could not think of an excuse to sit and stare out the window for such time as it might take for the man to make an appearance. If he were truly looking in on us, it would also not appear out of the ordinary, for I was in the habit of sitting near that opened window during the day, for it is protected from the wind by a corner of the house.

"My landlady was conveniently occupied with matters in one of the other rooms, and although she had offered to sit with me and keep me company, I was much contented that she would not interfere with my observations. She would, most probably, have been quite scandalized that I was even seated with the window open, for she had fastened it tightly when it grew dark. But I felt that the window had to be opened, for it was the only way that I should be able to listen for footsteps or the sound of a cab.

"It was well that I had taken such precautions, for it was the sound of footsteps that first alerted me to his arrival. I angled the book somewhat closer to the light, as though having difficult making out a word or passage, and took the opportunity to observe my watcher unnoticed, for it was apparent that he was watching our house and none other. He was standing back in the shadows, so that it was impossible for me to make out his features, but there were a few things apparent, even from the distance at which I was forced to view him.

"He was wearing a coat made of some heavy material, for the wind hardly stirred the edges. His head was bare, although he held his cap in his left hand, close by his body so that the shape of it was hidden from me. He carried a tall stick in his right, and leaned on it quite heavily. But when he was approaching, I had heard no sound of it striking the ground as he walked, so he must have carried it then.

"His shoulders were broad and rounded, although not bowed. He was likely accustomed to hard work, but it was not wearying to him for he held himself well. However, one of his legs had been injured, for his footsteps were odd, somewhere between a limp and a shuffle that I should recognize again instantly should I hear it. Yet in spite of that, he had walked down the street for some distance, for I had heard no sound of a cab.

"I was forced to lower my book again, or reveal that I was watching him. I lost my good view of him as I lowered my eyes again to the page. But I could still make out his figure in the darkness and I heard him make no movements. He must have been satisfied that he was unobserved, for he moved several steps closer, nearly stepping out of the shadows. But at that inopportune moment, a cab came down the street and he retreated back to his former post and my opportunity to get a view of his face was lost.

"I do not know how long he stood there for the wind was cold and I had quite chilled myself. Had it only been myself to consider, I should have stayed there until he left, but I could not justify the action and regretfully rose to close the casement. At the movement, I saw him retreat well back into the shadows, and should I not have known that he was there I would not have seen a sign of him.

"My dear landlady, who has been so kind to me, heard my movements, for they are not so stealthy as they once were, and came into the room. The window had been closed, and so I was not caught out on that point, but she was anxious to see me off to bed and not have me exert myself over much. I could have beaten my hands against the window to have lost the chance for further observation, even through the closed window. But I could make no excuse that would satisfy her and had to consent to be led off.

"That was last night, and I should imagine that if I were able to take up a similar post tonight, I should observe much the same thing. On my way out this afternoon, I crossed over to where I had seen him standing, in a secluded spot where our neighbour's house juts forward slightly, and found several sets of footprints pressed deeply into the dust. I should have wanted more time to examine them for further details, but needed to make good my escape for I still hoped to catch my friend's ship in harbour."

Sherlock Holmes had taken my former seat near to our visitor, leaving me the basket chair on the other side of the fire. He must have noted her grow weary, although her narrative was clear and unfaltering, for he stopped her and pressed a glass of water upon her.

"I should have wished to examine those footprints," noted Holmes ruefully, "but this evening's rain should have completely obliterated all traces of them."

"I could see nothing uncommon about them from the brief look that I had," said Mrs Kendrick. "But I only had a few moments, a poor vantage point, and none of your expertise in the matter. However, I can provide a general map of how they lay, if you will allow me a pencil and paper."

"You are a singular woman," Holmes declared, bounding over to his desk for the items.

Holmes and I sat in silence while she quickly sketched the outer walls of the buildings, marking clearly the window in which she had sat observing. Then, with a series of ovals, she marked out just how the footprints had lain. "I apologize for any errors," said she when she'd finished, "but I believe that I have accounted for all of them. The round marks were where he had leaned upon his stick."

Holmes snatched up the paper from her, moving to an open space on the floor, so as to better visualize how the events had occurred. He muttered to himself as he stepped it out, so as to better firm the facts in his mind.

"Did you landlady ever mention two men?" Holmes asked quite suddenly.

"Not that I can recall," she replied. "But then I took no notice of her comments the first night, thinking only that she had heard a cab hesitate outside our door. It was only the second night that I inquired further into the matter, and she could not recall the details of the night before other than that she had distinctly seen a man on the road outside, not far from our door. I could get no further details from her."


	5. Part I Chapter V

Holmes took his time stepping through the diagram that he had been drawn, and some time had passed before he returned to the circle of the fire. Neither Mrs Kendrick nor I had been much inclined for conversation, both of us being quite spent with the day's activities, and we were both contented to lounge before the fire in a doze while we waited.

It was from this comfortable state that I was forced to unwillingly rouse myself when Holmes drew near my seat. "My dear doctor," said he, his voice low, "what is your opinion?"

"I have no opinion on the case," I replied drowsily. "It remains quite a mystery to me."

Holmes sighed and motioned vaguely to the still form of our visitor. "I meant your medical opinion," he clarified. "There are not enough facts regarding this case for even me to come to a conclusion at this point."

"At the moment," I replied, "I am more concerned for the state of your health than I am for hers. She seems to be of strong constitution and resolute determination." Holmes's face had been alternating flush and pallor throughout the evening and the unusual nature of it concerned me enough to make comment on it.

"It has grown late, and her landlady will no doubt be growing anxious at her long disappearance," Holmes remarked, dismissing my comment about his health out of hand. "We shall have no further news of the case tonight, and perhaps it would be best for you to see her home and return there yourself."

We were speaking softly, so as not to disturb Mrs Kendrick, and I stole a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. I was surprised to see that I had spent much more time dozing than I had guessed and it really was quite late. Holmes had dimmed the gas while Mrs Kendrick and I slept, and the room was bathed in a tranquil dimness. Had I not had other duties to draw me out of my chair, I would have been loath to leave it.

I stretched myself out, easing the stiffness that had formed due to length of time I had sat unmoving in the chair, while Holmes increased the light and began to once again examine the note that Mrs Kendrick had given him earlier. Now that he had determined what he considered the best course of action, he was obviously leaving me to see to the details of the execution of it.

I had had intentions of rousing the lady gently, so as not to startle her, but she was evidently a very light sleeper, for no sooner had I started toward her when she fixed me with her clear blue eyes. "Your footsteps are different than those of Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson," she noted wearily, brushing a hand across her eyes. "It your leg that was wounded, was it not?"

I made no comment, and neither did my companion, absorbed as he was with other work, but, once again, I was quite surprised as to her powers of observation. Although they were nowhere near as keen as those of Sherlock Holmes, if any could be, they were still something quite remarkable. I attributed it to her nursing experiences and to what had earlier appeared to be a near-photographic memory.

I offered her an arm to help her up out of the chair, for her hat and wrapper had been set aside. I intended to have her dress herself for the journey while I called for a cab. She offered no resistance to the help, but rather took my hand gratefully, and this caused me some concern, given her earlier insistences upon her independence.

My concerns were shown to be well founded when I had helped her upright. No sooner had she gained her feet than her face paled alarmingly and she swayed, leaning herself heavily upon my arm. I thought that she should fall away in a dead faint, but for my steadying hands. I lowered her immediately back to her seat and, kneeling beside her, began to rub at her wrists vigorously, having nothing better immediately at hand.

"Holmes," I called rather sharply.

My friend half-turned, surprised that I should disturb him in his study. "Whatever is the matter, Watson?" he inquired with some irritation.

"My bag at once," I ordered, taking no account of his reaction to the interruption.

"I only stood up rather too fast," my patient protested, rather too weakly for my comfort.

Holmes had obeyed my order immediately, abandoning his mental pursuits once he had grasped the situation, and he set the bag near my knee. I felt for the lady's pulse with one hand, while with the other I reached for the vial of smelling salts, waving them gently beneath her nose.

She coughed as the fumes wafted up to her, and Holmes looked over at us in some concern. I looked pointedly at the carafe of water sitting on the sideboard, and he noted my gaze, pouring out a glass and bringing it over to us and pressing it upon Mrs Kendrick. She bristled slightly at the attentions being paid to her, but this was of comfort, as it meant she was regaining her faculties. Still, I did not wish to put her under the strain of a journey, even one so short as the cab ride to her home.

"I think that perhaps we would best be served by spending the night," I suggested gently. "You have overtaxed yourself and the hour is quite late."

"I insist upon it," declared Holmes firmly.

Mrs Kendrick was in no position to press the point, and she was aware of it. "I should not want to put you to any trouble," said she with a resigned air, determined to put up at least a token of resistance.

"It will not be trouble in the least," I assured her.

"Your room is freshly made up, Watson," Holmes informed me, "and aside from the usual clutter, mine is fresh as well. You shall take your customary place, my good doctor, and Mrs Kendrick shall have mine."

"And what of yourself, Mr Holmes?"

"It is of little consequence," replied Sherlock Holmes. "As Doctor Watson can confirm, I often forego sleep when occupied with a problem. And in any case, the sofa can be made up quite comfortably."

"It's settled then," said I standing and returning the vial of salts to my bag. "I must run home for a few moments and inform my maid where I am, in case patients come to call. On the way I shall stop by your lodgings and have your landlady gather up a few things for you."

"Oh, I can't imagine that she will be there," Mrs Kendrick informed me, taking up the pencil and paper left on the table from her earlier drawings. She wrote out her address for me, and I was surprised to find that it was not far from my own home. "She was called away to the country on account of a sister who suddenly took quite ill. It was that which gave me occasion to take my leave from the house. She had intended to send one of her own maids from home to stay with me until she returned and I slipped out before the girl could arrive."

"Then she shall perform the same function," I replied, gathering up my hat and coat. "Until I return, you are to trouble yourself no more with the problem you have brought to us." Here I fixed Sherlock Holmes with a stern gaze. I was leaving Mrs Kendrick in his charge until I returned.

Holmes laughed. "Have no worries, my good doctor, I swear that not another word about the matter shall cross my lips until morning," he swore. Later how he came to rue those words.

"I shall hold you to it," said I clapping my hat upon my head and dashing down the stairs. I had heard a cab stopping in the street below and the clatter of feet as the passengers were discharged. I hoped to catch it before it drove on.

The driver was kind enough to wait while I stopped first at the lady's house. The maid sent over by the captain's wife was relieved to hear that her charge was safe and that she herself would have no further duties until at least the next day. She obligingly gathered up a toilette for Mrs Kendrick.

I was about to mount my cab and start for my own home, when the maid appeared quite suddenly in the doorway. "Doctor," she called out, and I realized that I had not given her my name and had only told her the barest necessities of the situation. Perhaps it was for the best.

I descended from the carriage as she rushed to me, thinking that she had likely forgotten something. I was correct in my assumption, for she handed me an envelope. "This arrived for Mrs Kendrick late tonight, dropped off by a visitor. He instructed me to give it to her as soon as she returned. Perhaps it's important," said she. "I shouldn't want to keep it from her if it was important."

I made a few further inquiries, assured the girl that I would deliver the note, and started off for my own home. Gathering my things and leaving instructions for the maid, I started again for Baker Street. I would hold Holmes to his oath, for I would not have Mrs Kendrick further troubled with the problem until morning at the very least. If I had had my way, I should not have had her troubled with it at all, but I knew that was quite impossible.

I returned to find the little domestic scene I had left was quite undisturbed. It was one of the few glimpses that I have had into what sort of a husband Sherlock Holmes might have made. His Bohemian habits were so well defined that it was rare to catch him in a domestic mood, but he had apparently taken a fancy to his latest client, for he was sitting with his violin on his knee, playing a concerto that happened to be a favourite of mine, while Mrs Kendrick listened intently.

"You have returned to us already, Watson?" Holmes noted upon my entrance.

"I have." I draped my coat over my arm and took up the bags that I had carried up from the cab.

"You will take your old room?" asked Holmes, laying aside his violin.

"I should think so," I confirmed, not wishing for Mrs Kendrick to have to navigate the stairs that led up to my room.

"Your medical bag is waiting there," declared Holmes, leaning back in the knowledge that he had been right in his conclusions yet again.

I carried Mrs Kendrick's bag into Holmes's room, pleased to note that he had already undertaken some small rearrangements. He had removed or turned the portraits of criminal minds that usually adorned the walls and had turned back the covers so that the bed was prepared. He had also hidden away some of his more macabre trinkets, although I did not take the time to ascertain which he had determined unsuitable and which he had left out.

Between Holmes and I, we situated Mrs Kendrick comfortably in Holmes's rooms. There was no repeat of the previous incident, and I was quite comfortable leaving her to make her night-time preparations alone, for Holmes and I were only in the next room, quite within calling distance should she require something.

Seated again at his customary place near the fire, Holmes tamped down a bit of shag tobacco into his pipe. "I think, my dear doctor," said he looking across at me, "that this is one of the most singular cases that has come to my attention yet."

Remembering the envelope in my pocket, I commented, "I should think that it will grow a good deal more interesting to you come the morning."

"Why, Watson, what have you discovered?" he asked in delight, fully expecting me to divulge what I had learned.

I finished my drink and rose to head up the stairs to my room. "I believe you were the one who said that not another word of the case should cross your lips until morning," said I, retiring. It had been a strenuous day, and I was quite exhausted. There would be no more of the case until morning. 


	6. Part I Chapter VI

I rose somewhat later than was my usual custom, my rest being uninterrupted by the usual early-morning patient calls. Revelling in the decadence of the unusual indulgence, I lay in bad, looking at the diffuse stream of light flooding through the narrow slit between the curtains that I had not drawn tightly closed the previous night when I retired. I was no longer a permanent tenant of the bedroom and although the room was kept neat and generally prepared for visitors, although so far as I was aware, I was the only person who ever frequented the room, a fine layer of dust had accumulated on some of the out of the way surfaces. This dust was being stirred by the imperceptible air currents in the room and floated lazily about, gently winding in and out of the illuminating beam of light.

But with the knowledge that Holmes would be eagerly awaiting my appearance down at breakfast, and the news of the case that I bore, and that Mrs Kendrick might have need of my professional services, I could not justify lazing about to myself. Dressing rather hurriedly to make up for the wasted time, I descended to the sitting room to find Holmes languidly reclining before the fire and breakfast for three laid on the dining table.

"You are rather late in rising this morning," Holmes observed, not lifting his gaze from the heavy book in his lap. I thought his manner rather cool.

"Surely you cannot be angry with me for refusing your questions last night," protested I, keeping my voice low in case Mrs Kendrick was still abed in the next room. Although it was later than my habit, I was by nature an early riser and the hour was still quite early.

Holmes closed his book with a loud clap that I felt sure carried well throughout the apartment and I fixed him with a stern gaze. "She has been up and about for hours already," Holmes informed me with a sigh. "And we're both quite dying to know what further information you have procured. But that was not the reason for my coolness just now."

"Well, what then?" I stammered, determined to know what I had done to warrant such treatment.

"I assure you, my dear Watson, that the fault was in no way yours. Rather, a point of dispute between the lady and myself has been resolved quite in her favour." Here he gestured to the several thick volumes piled about his chair. "It has been confirmed by several unimpeachable sources."

Rarely in all the time that I had known him had Sherlock Holmes been proven wrong on a point of information. Facts were his specialty and he took great pride in always having them accurately fixed in his mind. But astonished as I was at that, I was all the more astonished that my charge had already been up and about for several hours, arguing with Holmes nonetheless. I gaped at him, wanting to simultaneously address both points and not finding sufficient words to address either.

"My good doctor," declared Holmes, at once realizing the nature of my difficulty, "I assure you that the argument was purely of an intellectual nature not pertaining to the problem at hand and not of my instigating. Had my wished been obeyed, she should still have been abed."

"Where is she now?" I asked, for she was not to be seen in the sitting room.

"Dressing, I should imagine," Holmes commented with an air of indifference as he picked up a volume from the stack at his feet and began to leaf purposely through it.

"Dressing!" cried I, thoroughly shocked at Holmes cavalier behaviour about the whole business.

"Calm yourself, Watson," said Holmes. "The whole matter came about quite innocently enough. At about three o'clock, as I was dozing here on the sofa, I heard footsteps, pacing in fact. As I knew that the footsteps could be neither mine nor yours, and that Mrs Hudson was in her rooms downstairs, I knew at once the difficulty."

"So what exactly did you do?" I inquired rather sharply.

"I informed Mrs Kendrick as to the location of my warm blue dressing gown, clothed myself in the purple, and invited her to come out to the sitting room where there was more room to walk about," Holmes replied. "She was grateful, considering the cramped quarters of my bedroom and walked the floor while I read a bit. After some time had passed and she showed no signs of wearying, as had been my hope, I inquired as to whether mental exercise could not be substituted for the physical."

"And you have been arguing since that time?"

"Not entirely," Holmes replied. "We had to stop for a period while she looked up some rather obscure point and I smoked the remainder of my pipe."

I was quite put out by the knowledge that despite my best efforts to allow Mrs Kendrick the rest that she required, I had been thwarted while I slept on unaware. I turned away from Holmes and crossed over to the bow window, staring out into the dreary grey sky.

"Come now, Watson," called Holmes from behind me, "several times I urged her to go back to her bed and spend the remainder of the night at rest, but she quite refused, stating that she had always been a restless sleeper and that her mind rarely got such exercise as I was giving it. What was I to do?"

I sighed, for I knew that Holmes had never been able to resist mental exercise. In fact, it was when he had no such exercises that he turned to his cocaine injections, a worrying habit that I had lectured him about on more than one occasion. "I suppose that indulging her was the best course of action," said I finally, when Holmes offered nothing more by way of an apology. "So long as you did not overly tax her."

"I should say that it was quite the opposite, was it not, Mr Holmes?" Mrs Kendrick's voice rang out lightly from behind me. "Have you confirmed my statement to your satisfaction?" she asked my companion.

Holmes had never been one to begrudge another credit when it was due. "You were entirely correct in that instance," replied he. "But it went the way I argued in the 1456 matter that I had cited in my defences. I should say that we were both quite right and leave the matter at that, for Doctor Watson should not like to have you excited."

"Then we should take the good doctor's advice," said she, nodding her head to me in greeting.

She looked none the worse for her adventures the previous day, for her cheeks were of a rosy colour and her eyes bright and keen. She had not yet pinned up her hair and it tumbled freely down her back in a way that reminded me of a painting I had once seen whilst visiting my uncle in Scotland. Her rosy lips were parted in a smile that I could not help but return.

"I hope that you rested well," said I, inclining my head toward her, "short though the rest was."

"Do not blame Mr Holmes," she insisted. "The fault was all mine. I have never been a sound sleeper and never less so than when I am occupied with something. Lately, I have been more restless than ever, and that was before this problem was ever brought to my attention."

I nodded, for I knew that was often the case for women in her state. I made no comment on it though, for such matters were not for free discussion, although Holmes had shown little enough restraint the previous day. "Shall we breakfast then?" I asked, motioning to the set table.

"I should think so," said Sherlock Holmes, bounding up from his seat. "For I can't imagine that you will share what information you have gathered until we have finished," he noted, looking over at me.

"No," I agreed, "I shouldn't imagine that I would."

We dined well, for Holmes had had the foresight to order a large breakfast up for us. It was a domestic scene that I had missed these past weeks while my wife was away and while I had been occupied with my professional business. It did not matter much that the wife was not mine, for the atmosphere was the same. Even Holmes's sallow complexion looked that much the better for the lady's presence.

I refused to allow my two companions to rush through their meals and, as it was my co-operation upon which they depended, they followed my lead without complaint. We discussed common things and I was much impressed with the idea that should he not have been so occupied with his work, Sherlock Holmes should have made some woman a fair husband. But then, if he were not so consumed with his work, he would not have been the Sherlock Holmes I knew and I dismissed the idea without mentioning it to him.

We resumed our positions of the night before, Mrs Kendrick in Holmes's comfortable chair with Holmes close by her elbow, and I withdrew the letter from my pocket, passing it across to Mrs Kendrick. It had been delivered to her and so it was only right that she be the one to open it, although the thought had crossed my mind to do it myself, in case the contents should be shocking.

Holmes, with her permission, was peering eagerly over her shoulder as she opened the envelope and withdrew a paper. Unlike the stiff paper of the previous note, this was thin paper, worn about the edges. I could tell nothing else from across the room, and should Mrs Kendrick have not read the writing out to us, I should not have known what it said until Holmes had completed his preliminary examination of it.

Again, the writing was in poetry.

"Ancient laws _our_ deeds do govern," she read.  
"And secure our _courses_, as you must learn  
"There is no way for this to _change_.  
"Our fortune does wax while yours does wane."

"It follows the same meter and rhyme scheme as the first," I observed, "although the meter falls off a bit in the last line."

"I should imagine that was to have the proper tense of the verb 'wane,'" Holmes noted, "in order to make the rhyme."

"Is the writing the same as the first?" asked I, unable to see for myself.

"It is written in the same hand, but in a different ink," Mrs Kendrick informed me. "Or, rather, in a reversal of inks."

"A reversal of inks?"

"Whereas the last note had been allowed to dry naturally but for a few words which were blotted, this note has been blotted with only a few words allowed to dry naturally," explained Holmes.

"'They hold,'" I quoted from the other note.

"Whereas this note says, 'Our courses change,'" read Holmes.

"What does it mean?" I demanded.

"If I should know that, my dear Watson, then I should have solved the case," said Holmes. "Now, I believe that you are still withholding some details from us."

"The letter was delivered last night by a freckled girl of about twenty, her hair an unusual shade of auburn," said I, determined to have the best of Holmes at least once.

"A girl!" cried Holmes. He looked rocked to his foundations.

Mrs Kendrick laughed and spoke up. "If she was wearing a blue dress, then I should not be surprised in the least, for you have just described Colleen, the maid that was to have come and stayed with me. But you have neglected to mention that her eyes are green and her nose turned up at the end."

Holmes fixed me with a look. "This is not a matter to be trifled with, Watson," said he severely.

I hastily outlined all that Colleen had revealed to me, for although I had gotten the better of Holmes, I felt little triumph in it. Holmes listened intention, interrupting me several times to press the details. Once Mrs Kendrick herself broke in with a query. Thanks to the careful questioning I had done the previous night, I was able to furnish the requested details, and although I had not quite finished, Holmes leaned back in his chair.

"I think that you have quite redeemed yourself, my dear Watson," stated Holmes. "You have brought back nearly everything that I had wished to know."

"You mean to say that you have solved it?" I questioned.

"No, no," replied Holmes. "Not yet, but the pieces are beginning to come together quite nicely. Don't you agree, Mrs Kendrick?"

She sat in silent thought for a moment before answering. "They may be beginning to assemble themselves," she said carefully, "but as yet the whole of it remains quite hidden."

"Have you learned anything further, Watson?" Holmes asked, obviously contented with Mrs Kendrick's answer.


	7. Part I Chapter VII

I finished my description of the events of the night before, as told to me by the girl, Colleen. "She could say nothing of the man's walk," said I, "for she is not an observant girl, though I should think she is likely quick enough about her duties. Nor could she describe to me anything distinctive about his voice, although they had exchanged some few words as to the importance of the letter."

"Is there nothing further that she could tell you?" asked Mrs Kendrick. I thought I heard dismay in her voice, however I did not know whether she was more eager to have the case solved so that she could return to her comfortable life, or if she was more anxious for the facts with which the case could be solved.

"This may not even have been the same man as was observed the previous night," noted Holmes. "It may well be the companion that accompanied the first observer that very first night, when you were quite unaware of the events."

Both Holmes and Mrs Kendrick were disappointed in the remainder of the information that I had brought them, although they had initially greeted it warmly enough. I could read it in their manners as easily as I could read the morning papers, mirroring one another as they were in every feature. "That is not quite all," said I, anxious not to disappoint the two.

"Then go on, Watson," Holmes urged. "There is no time to spare." I did not know from where he was drawing his sense of urgency. There had certainly been nothing to indicate it to me.

But looking over at Mrs Kendrick, I could see the same hastiness written on her features. I was unsure whether I had overlooked something essential, or if I was rather on the outside of some silent communication between the two. I should not have doubted that the whole matter had taken up something of the nature of a challenge between the two, whether for the better or for the worse.

"Although I had descended from my cab to receive the note, I had not moved far down the path toward the door, leaving the girl to cross over to me. She left the door ajar behind her, a fortunate circumstance, for the light spilled freely out behind her. There were no footprints visible on the lawn, so the man must have stuck to the path," said I.

"There is nothing in this," cried Holmes in frustration.

"I have not yet finished," said I brusquely, rather hurt that Holmes would think so little of me.

"Then by all means carry on," Holmes pressed.

If I should not have been more aware of Holmes's temperament, I might have been angered with his callous disregard of my feelings, but I knew that he cared little for the emotions of others even at the best of times and even less so when he was involved in with an intriguing case, as he was now.

"Thanks to the detail of the sketch that we had earlier been provided, I could easily recognize the place where the man had been observed to stand the night before last. When I had first approached the house, it had been cloaked in deep shadow and I had been quite unable to observe anything. However, when Colleen came out to me, leaving as I had already stated, the door ajar, light was cast on the corner in question," said I, perhaps still a bit testily. "Although the illumination was still exceedingly poor, it was possible to make out the form of a man, hiding away in the shadows and half-concealed behind the lower branches of the nearby tree."

"And what of him?" inquired Holmes, leaning forward eagerly in his seat.

"It was impossible for me to distinguish details for the distance and in the poor light, but I was able to make several gross observations. He was clothed darkly, for there was little enough to distinguish his form but to an eye who was searching for it. There was no sign of a stick or umbrella, although such a thing could have been leaning out of sight against the wall of the neighbouring house," I answered. "He was not a tall man, for he fit in neatly beneath the branches, and I should have estimated them at not quite six feet from the ground. And yet he was stout, for a slender man should have fit in next to the trunk of the tree and gone unseen in the shadows."

Here Holmes pursed his lips and made some small sound, whether of approval or disapproval I could not tell. I halted in my narrative and looked over at him. He made a motion for me to continue, but did not utter a word.

"I was struck by a few similarities to the description that you had given us last night, Mrs Kendrick," said I. "His head was bare, for it was just possible to see his hair, which must be extraordinarily thick and full, as it was blown about in the wind. I could also make out something being held in the man's hand, and I should think that it was likely the missing hat. His coat must also have been of heavy material, for although his hair was stirred easily by the breeze and I felt it tugging at my own tails, his coat was scarcely stirring. And that is all that I was able to observe in the short time that I was allowed."

"I believe that we have had our description of the second man, have we not?" commented Mrs Kendrick blithely, her attentions focused on the visage of my companion.

"Such as it is," Holmes sighed, folding his hands together and closing his eyes.

Now that the facts had entirely been delivered, I knew that he would want to take some time and filter them through his mind. It might be hours before he was ready to be disturbed, and as he preferred quiet in these times, I was about to make the suggestion that Mrs Kendrick might return to her room for a period of rest. But when I turned to her, I discovered that she had assumed an attitude very much like that of Sherlock Holmes's.

There were differences, to be sure. Her blue eyes were wide and she had fixed her gaze on some distant point that I could not determine, her fingers were silently drumming on the arms of her chair, and rather than her head being rested back against her chair, it was tilted to the side slightly, as though she were listening to something. But despite the differences, it was plainly apparent that she too was turning over the facts in her mind.

Determining that it was best not to disturb them as they sat consumed with their own thoughts, I leaned back in my chair and took up a book from one of the many stacks that Holmes had left laying about. I knew not how long it would be before one or the other emerged from their reveries.


	8. Part I Chapter VIII

"I think, my dear Watson, that one of your most extraordinary gifts is that of silence," Holmes commented several hours later, when he finally roused himself and unclasped his hands.

I looked to him, having long ago set aside the volume that I had picked up. "Have you the facts firmly in hand?" I asked, although I was aware that if he did not, he would not have moved a single muscle from his previous posture.

"What of them there are," Holmes replied lightly. I knew from that one comment that he had not as many facts as he would like.

"And have you managed to reach a conclusion?" I inquired regardless, interested as to whether he had been able to deduce anything, sparse though were some of the facts.

"I make it a point never to conclude without having all the facts," Holmes reminded me "although I have determined that I shall have to make some further inquiries into a few matters of importance."

"I believe that it is rather too presumptuous for me to say anything," said Mrs Kendrick, turning her gaze upon Sherlock Holmes, "but still I think I should like remind you that that naval offices will not likely take kindly to inquiries, even from someone with so high a reputation as yourself, Mr Holmes."

"The naval offices?" I repeated.

"I was not planning to inquire directly at the offices," Holmes told her nonchalantly. "I have other recourses, for I have not found the Admiralty willing to release information through any but the official channels, and even that is hard enough to procure. However, there are men, even within the upstanding tradition of our Royal Navy, that are not so close with what they know."

"Are you planning to make inquiries into Doctor Kendrick's anticipated return?" inquired I, quite unable to think of another reason why Holmes should need information from the naval authorities.

"I may," said Holmes to me, "but it was not my first thought."

"Although I have only the passing familiarity with naval assignments, I should think that it may be beneficial to determine which vessels have been into port for repairs," Mrs Kendrick said to Holmes, bypassing me completely. "Midshipmen are not generally allowed so free of a reign as these men appear to have unless the vessel is not expected to sail."

"I should think that given the nature of the first man's infirmity, for I shall consider Watson's man the second, that he should not be in active service," replied Holmes, "although I may be much mistaken, for I am more familiar with the Army than with the Royal Navy." Knowing Holmes as I did, I knew that when he stated a 'lack of familiarity' lesser men should often have been considered well-read on the subjects, at the least.

"I should doubt that he has been invalided out of the service entirely," countered Mrs Kendrick, "for he has not yet abandoned his uniform, and the shuffling of his steps could be taken to indicate that he has been recently a-sea."

The two of them were discussing quite over my head and I should not have even needed to be in the room. "How have you managed to determine that the men are Navy men?" I asked.

"My apologies, Watson," said Holmes, turning slightly so to as include me in the circle of conversation, "I have an unfortunate tendency to forget that you are not privy to quite so much information as I am."

I thought the comment rather strange, for I had heard every word that Holmes had. I had seen the same things that he had, for he had passed the second note over to me when he had satisfied himself with it. I knew that I was not nearly so adept with his methods as I might have been, but I had surely had access to the information at the very least. "What information have I missed?" I was forced to inquire after a moment.

"Your information has rather come to you out of order, I should think," Holmes stated soothingly. "If rather than beginning with Mrs Kendrick's narrative, you begin with the first note and then proceed to consider the descriptions of the two men, you might get on slightly better. The second note is irrelevant for this deduction."

He paused to allow me time to reconsider the problem from what he considered a fresh angle. I could make no more of it from that approach than I could from the previous one. "I must admit that I am still quite in the dark," I sighed.

"You are familiar with my methods, Watson," said Holmes encouragingly. "Start with what you have seen and move onward from there."

"The first note was penned on paper from the cover of a ship's log," I recalled, "and while that indicates a maritime involvement, the Royal Navy is by no means indicated, save for the connection of Mrs Kendrick and her husband."

"And what else?" prompted Holmes.

"I have no idea," I replied.

"The hats," said Mrs Kendrick when Holmes offered up nothing further. "What reason could they have for removing them if they were not of a shape and style that would be instantly recognized? And further to that, of a type that would not only be recognized, but would also allow them to be identified."

"The heavy material of the jackets also provides a better indication than the coincidental matter of the hats," corrected Holmes. "A sailor's pea coat is made of exceptionally thick and heavy material and the placement of the buttons does not allow much movement in the wind, for otherwise it would be likely to have it catch in the rigging of the sailing ships of old. Although that merely adds to a balance of probability and in itself proves nothing beyond the maritime element."

I thought Holmes's correction rather weak, for I thought that it proved nothing beyond what could be inferred from the note, but I refrained from saying anything. I had no intention of wounding my friend's pride, should that have been the case. But I placed far more faith on the assumption that his cases merely sounded weak because he was leaving out some piece of vital information.

"The second note was also penned on a map, was it not?" I remembered. "Would that not also have been a strong indication?"

"Taken with the rest of the evidence, but not alone," replied Holmes. "Maps may be found more widely, and there was nothing to indicate that the map was a naval one as opposed to any other type."

"But I have wasted quite enough time sitting here," my friend stated, glancing at the clock and starting up. "I have several inquires to make, but I shall return before dinnertime and I will share my findings after we have dined."

"I had thought to return Mrs Kendrick to her home," said I. "I believe that she is well enough to stand the journey and she should be more comfortable there."

"You must not do that," declared Holmes instantly and firmly. "She may be more comfortable, but her very life may be in danger. We know nothing of the character of these men or of their motivation in watching her. I am quite glad that circumstances prevented her from returning home last night, for it was providential considering what you have just revealed."

I could not argue with that, although I was sorely tempted to. "Is there no friend that you could stay with?" I asked, turning to the lady.

"They must not be connected in any way with the Navy," cautioned Holmes, winding his cravat around his neck to guard against the wind.

"Then I have no one," Mrs Kendrick answered with a sigh. "I am not from the city and know only those friends who I had nursed alongside and those naval families that I have met through my husband's introduction."

I thought to suggest that she come to stay with me, but realized that was hardly a better solution, for although I could justify leaving my practice with my neighbour while I was not at home, I should have to take it up again when I returned. My wife was away, and our maid was very young and quite new to her duties. Rather, I had to settle for a deep sigh as Holmes darted from the room.

"I should be back before long," he called back over his shoulder. "You may order what you like for our dinner, Watson."

"Do I concern you, Doctor Watson?" Mrs Kendrick asked after Holmes had gone, quite surprising me for I was not expecting her to speak to the matter so directly.

"There are many things that concern me," said I. "The first among which is what I should have Mrs Hudson make up for our dinner." I had no intention of revealing my thoughts to her. Should she have been Sherlock Holmes, she might have been able to divine them, but, astute as she was, she was not Holmes and I saw no reason to tell her more than she could deduce for herself.

Holmes inquiries must have taken longer than he had originally anticipated for he was back not in time for dinner, as he had said he would be, but rather he was just in time for an early supper. Mrs Hudson, long-suffering lady as she was, had anticipated Holmes's potential late return and had proposed not to bring up anything until after she had heard his tread on the stairs. Knowing well Holmes's habits, I had agreed, promising to call her should the lady and I decide to dine earlier.

"Have you not eaten?" Holmes inquired, noting the empty table as he unwrapped his cravat and removed his coat.

"We were waiting for your return so that we could dine together," said I, turning away from the fire and lowering the book I had been reading so that I could face my friend.

"Well," said Holmes, "I must admit that I am grateful. The wind is enough to chill one to the very bone, and a warm supper will go a long way to remedy that."

"Come and take a place by the fire," urged Mrs Kendrick, laying aside her own book and standing to offer him her place.

Holmes did take the seat by the fire, stretching out his long, thin legs toward its warmth. The knees of his trousers were quite caked with mud, and I could see that his shoes were damp through. Obviously Mrs Kendrick noted this as well, for she hastened to fetch Holmes's slippers, which she had earlier seen kicked carelessly in a corner and placed to air near the fire.

She handed the warmed slippers to Holmes, and for a moment I thought that she would lightly chastise him for soaking his shoes and muddying his trousers, as my own wife would do when I returned home wet and with mud on my trousers. But she did nothing of the sort, rather reaching out to pluck a leaf that I had not even noticed from Holmes's hair.

"I hope that last night's footprints were not washed away or trampled over before you could satisfy yourself about their maker," she noted, laying the small piece of greenery on the table beside Holmes's chair.

"Round toes and heels," said Holmes, "and of rather an average size. No signs of favouritism or unsteadiness of the legs. Unworn on the whole with no distinctive features, so the boots must themselves be quite new and not yet broken in."

I should almost have sworn that the two were making a deliberate parody of a typical domestic scene if I had not known better. Holmes was sprawled out in his chair, staring at the slippers in his hand as though they were something utterly foreign to him. It was quite obvious that he was unused to such attentions. Mrs Kendrick stood before him, her hands pressed into the small of her back, inquiring not into the details of his day, as an average housewife might do, but rather into the particulars of a stranger's boot prints!

I might have betrayed my amusement and laughed aloud but for Mrs Hudson's timely knock at the door. I sprang to my feet to answer it, motioning earnestly for Mrs Kendrick to take a seat so that Mrs Hudson should not be made aware of the true nature of things. She moved to obey, but I still looked to her before opening the door to the landlady. As I looked back, I caught a glimpse of Holmes, still staring down at his slippers.


	9. Part I Chapter IX

Although Holmes spent much of the next day wandering the city inquiring into various problems and facts, he returned back to the apartment with little information to share with us. I may have suspected that Holmes was merely holding his cards close but for his overall air of resignation. Already I knew that his Baker Street Irregulars had met with no success in their tasks, for the dirty street Arabs had come to make their report while Holmes was out. Sherlock Holmes had reacted to my report of their failure with only heavy sigh and a cloud of blue smoke, for he had turned to his rosewood pipe and his shag tobacco.

When I arrived down at the breakfast table the next morning, I was surprised to find that Sherlock Holmes was still wearing his dressing gown. For the past two mornings, since Mrs Kendrick had brought her case to us, Holmes had been dressed and ready for further work when I came down to dine. The first day he had been eager to hear the news I had withheld from him the night before and the previous day he had been out all day making inquiries into various details. Given his failures of the day before, I had expected him to be ready to embark on fresh inquiries.

"You are early in rising this morning, my dear Watson," said Holmes, lazily unwrapping his long fingers from around his knees and pulling his lanky frame into a standing position. Breakfast was waiting on the table and he was in a communicative attitude considering his pensive mood of the night before.

Mrs Kendrick waved a slightly distracted good morning to me as she peered down at the chessboard set between Holmes's chair and hers. "Mate in seven," she noted after a moment's study.

"Mate in five," Holmes replied offhandedly, not bothering to look back down at the board.

"White's in five," she refuted, quite to my confusion. "Black can't be any earlier than seven."

"Seven assuredly, but the balance of probability puts black in mate at five and white not at all," corrected Holmes.

What I had taken to be a chess game half-played appeared to be nothing more than a three-dimensional logic puzzle to the two of them. "If white can mate in five, then why wouldn't it?" I inquired, quite unable to follow Holmes's train of thought.

"White can mate in five if, and only if, they sacrifice their last knight on the first move. However, black can force the issue by rather forcing a sacrifice of the queen's rook," said Holmes, turning back toward the chessboard. "That rearranges the board thusly after three moves." He reached out to remove two pieces and make several adjustments.

"Do you see now?" Holmes inquired. His long fingers moved over the pieces as he explained the rest to me. "Black may mate in four further moves by levering the white knight with their rook. Or, by acting rashly and taking a small risk, they may mate in two by setting their queen two spaces over from where I have just indicated and allowing it to be taken."

Mrs Kendrick was silent for a moment. "Or," said she, her white fingers reaching out to the pieces, "white may unseat the entire plan by moving thusly, rather than how Mr Holmes had indicated. That would force black to make four further moves to not endanger their bishop and the entire game." As she spoke, she moved two pieces and reached for a third.

Holmes tutted softly at the motion. "_J'adoube_," she replied sweetly, moving the piece only a fraction of an inch, into the centre of the square.

"Yes," interjected Holmes, leaning over the board, "but black may compensate by refusing to have risked the queen and rather having sacrificed the rook. In which case mate will be in three further moves." Once again, he rearranged the pieces to match his discussion.

"But with your pieces as such, your bishop is still vulnerable. White can mate in three moves."

"Ah, but with the queen in play, white's knight is forfeit and that which you have suggested would be impossible. Rather, for that to occur, the last white rook would have to have been kept in play and not taken by the black queen."

"But with that it would have been unavoidable for the knight to have been retained and the situation would be entirely different. Mate by white would be inevitable despite the defence by black."

"But with that the queen would have been risked in taking the bishop and with some finesse black may be able to recover and force not only a stalemate, but also the checkmate, as we had previously discussed."

The two had stopped manually moving the pieces about and had lapsed into a purely verbal repartee. As they parried back and forth, I peered down at the board and noted something. "Why would black not have brought their knight into play? It seems foolish for a player, even a novice, to abandon a piece entirely." I looked at the board for another moment. "With the knight it is unavoidable that black should mate in three moves, at least with the pieces as they are set."

Holmes reached out to knock the knight from the board. "That knight has been out of play since the seventeenth move," he declared calmly.

"Twenty-first, if black rather sacrifices their queen's pawn and forgoes your elaborate gambit."

"Recall, it was eliminated in the nineteenth by that rather clever turnabout on the…" Holmes stopped himself as he saw the look on my face. "Calm yourself, my good doctor," said he. "We have not been at this all night."

"Only the better part of it, I'm sure," I replied with some derision.

"Not the better part," Holmes stated, latching onto the double meaning in my words. "This is just a mere diversion we undertook while we waited for you to descend to breakfast, a way to while away a few hours."

I refrained from commenting. "Shall we breakfast?" I asked instead, offering my arm to the lady. I was uncertain of what events had transpired the night before while I slept, but Holmes was in a fine mood despite the weather, which was again cloudy and rainy.

Although Holmes did have a tendency to forego food entirely during his periods of intense concentration, this was not one of those times, and he ate ravenously. "We have reached a point in the case where nothing further can be accomplished without further communication from the parties involved," said Holmes between mouthfuls. "And so I have no need to venture out today. Perhaps you would like to return home for a few hours, Watson," Holmes suggested kindly, "to check on the state of your practice."

I knew that I should take advantage of the opportunity to return to my home for a few hours to gather a few of the comforts I had missed and to see how my practice was making out under the watch of my neighbour, but I could not seem to summon the energy to anticipate the trip given the weather. I attributed it to my state of exhaustion following my exertions in the east of the city and to the late hours I had been keeping in combination with the dreariness awaiting me outside.

"I think that I should perhaps rather stay here today and venture out tomorrow when the weather is nicer," said I, peering at the rivulets of rainwater running down the windowpane of the bow window.

"Despite the rain," replied Holmes, "we have not had so nice a day as this for nearly a week. There is not a breath of wind."

It had been a cold and dreary autumn broken up only by a few fine and clear days. The last clear day, as Holmes was correct in remarking, had been a week ago. And aside from the weather, I could think of no reason why I should not leave the Baker Street apartment for a few hours, for I did have some business to attend to out in the city.

Still, it was with considerable reluctance that after breakfast I donned my coat and hat and started off into the rain. As I left the comfortable apartment, I couldn't help but give a long, lingering look back toward the warmth of the fire.

Holmes saw my look back at the place where he and Mrs Kendrick were both occupied with their books. "Go on, Watson," Holmes urged. "I give you my word that I shall act the model gentleman and put this case away from my lips, if not from my mind. Neither shall we engage in chess nor any other active pursuit." Only for Sherlock Holmes could chess be considered an active pursuit, but, then again, never had I witnessed chess being played in quite the manner that he and Mrs Kendrick had played it that morning.

Mrs Kendrick looked up and fixed me with a piercing gaze. "Do take a cab, doctor," said she, not sounding unlike my own wife, "for you should not like to take a chill." But despite the outward similarity to my wife, there was something about the way she said it that reminded me of Holmes. Still, I obeyed Mrs Kendrick's caution and took a cab to my Kensington home.

My neighbour happened to be at the door of his own house seeing a patient out as my cab arrived. He waved me over, seeing that I had the protection afforded by an umbrella and he did not. "Have you returned from your adventures?" he inquired, knowing that I rarely required him to watch my practice for more than a short time unless I was occupied with one of Holmes's more intricate cases.

"It has not been so adventurous as you would think," I told him. "I have been keeping watch over a patient and have only returned home for a few moments to gather some few things that I have need of." Although I was in fact occupied with Holmes, I did not feel entirely secure sharing that detail with him until after the case had been satisfactorily resolved.

"Ah," said my neighbour with sudden understanding. "Well, that at least does clear up at least one mystery."

"Mystery?" said I, rather too sharply.

"Over the past two days, since you left your practice under my watch, you have had several repeat visitors who have refused to substitute my services for yours," my neighbour informed me. "But if they were rather coming to receive information from you as to their friend's condition, then it makes perfect sense that they should have no use for me."

I did not think his logic quite sound, for even if the men were friends of a patient, there would be little enough reason that they should seek me out at home. Rather, they should in all likelihood inquire at the patient's home. But my neighbour continued on, "But you must not be entirely satisfied with this patient's night nurse for although the two men have both come to call quite late, past ten o'clock, you have still not yet returned home for the night."

"She is a young girl, newly trained, and the case is a complex one," said I in answer. "However, the family insists on having none other and I typically wait until all is settled for the night before taking myself away."

"How long do you expect to enforce the quarantine for? And do you expect that the illness has spread?" he inquired with some concern.

I was suddenly provided with the missing key to his previous assumptions. Following hard on the heels of the wave of illness in the east of the city, it would be a common thing for me to place another patient presenting similar symptoms under quarantine to prevent the further spread of the disease. Even the visitors would make sense under this circumstance.

All except, of course, for the small matter that the patient in question was entirely fictitious. "It depends entirely on the course of the symptoms and his progress," I replied rather cryptically. "Now, what of these men? I should like to tell my patient exactly who has been calling after him."

"They would not leave their names," supplied my neighbour amiably enough, "but then they rarely spoke with me, rather than to inform me that my services were not needed and to inquire when you would return."

"Perhaps with a description, the family will be able to supply the names," I pressed, entirely sure that these men were the same two that had been watching Mrs Kendrick.

"As it was late and I spoke with them across the yard, it was difficult to distinguish details of their faces," my neighbour said, entirely unsuspicious of my insistence. "However both were dressed identically in the fashion of sailors, with dark trousers and heavy pea coats. One leaned heavily on a stick and limped badly, however when I asked, he told me that it was an old wound."

"Did he say the nature of the wound?" I asked excitedly, knowing this detail would be invaluable to Holmes. "It would be helpful for the family," I added quickly.

"No, he didn't. However, he did have a scar running crosswise on the back of his hand, between his thumb and first finger. I remember it distinctly because it separated a blue tattoo into pieces. I couldn't make out the figure though, as it was half-hidden beneath the cuff of his jacket."

"However did you manage to see that?" I questioned, for he had already stated that he had only observed them across the yard.

"The light caught it quite clearly as he handed the letter to your maid," my neighbour replied, moving toward the house. "If you have any reason to think that our eastern illness has spread to other areas city, kindly inform me, for I should like to begin taking the precautions early, if that is the case."

I assured him that I would inform him as to the nature of my patient when it became apparent and walked casually back over to my own home. For the past two nights it had not been Mrs Kendrick's home that had been watched, but rather my own. I couldn't think of how they had managed to trace me, and then I suddenly remembered observing the black figure in the shadows on the night that Mrs Kendrick first came to us. If I could observe him, I should surely also have been observed, and much more clearly as I had made no efforts to conceal myself. It should have been only a small matter to determine where I lived, for I had made straight for my home.

I quickly collected the things I needed from my home, including the letter that had been left by the two men, left fresh instructions for my maid, and rapidly made my way to the nearest telegraph office. I had no intention of letting my wife come home to a house that was being kept under observation by such unsavoury characters, and sent her a wire instructing her to stay where she was until such time as I contacted her again. I knew that she would be worried and included a mention to the eastern pandemic, which had been at its height when she left the city. I felt secure that she would draw her own conclusions from that as to the reason I did not wish her to return, and that was my intention in including the mention.


	10. Part II Chapter I

I hurriedly completed the rest of my business, although I would have much rather rushed immediately back to Baker Street with my fresh information. But I could not be sure that I had not been observed returning home and did not want to be responsible for a trail leading directly back to Baker Street. Obviously the men had not yet made the connection between Sherlock Holmes and myself, and I had no intention of making it plainly apparent.

The sudden pressing urgency of matters had given me a burst of energy, and I bounded up the stairs to the sitting room. I don't know what attitude I had expected to find Holmes and Mrs Kendrick in, but I had to admit to my own surprise. Mrs Kendrick was seated on the sofa, one of Holmes's shirts in her lap and a pair of his trousers beside her. Holmes sat in his chair, a book lying ignored in his lap, as he watched Mrs Kendrick doing his mending with a bemused expression on his face.

When I entered, he turned from his observation of her to face me. He caught sight of the look on my face and his expression immediately brightened. "You have brought us fresh news," he declared.

"I have," I replied with not nearly so much eagerness. The news I bore was no doubt of help to Holmes, but it was troubling me deeply.

I sighed and removed both coat and hat. "I have brought back more information on the two men and a letter, one that I should imagine is very much in the spirit of the previous two," said I, anxious to have the entire matter resolved.

"We shall have the letter second," directed Holmes, "for I should like to have the details of the men while they are still fresh in your mind."

"I did not observe them myself," I explained, crossing the room to sink down into my chair by the fire, "but rather have had the details come to me through my neighbour. He has seen them outside my home the past two nights, at just past ten o'clock." I continued to detail the conversation as it had happened between the two of us. The details were sufficiently fresh in my mind that I was able to start at the point where he had first waved me over until the instant where he had disappeared into his home again.

"My maid, Anna Marie, also had opportunity to observe one of the men, for last night he made bold enough to knock and inquire after me. I had not told her that I would be staying here, thinking it more prudent to keep my whereabouts somewhat in doubt, and she was not able to point them toward this address, as she is rather new to us and is quite unaware of my intimate acquaintance with you, Holmes," I continued.

"Admirably done," commented Holmes encouragingly. "It means that so long as we keep a sharp eye, we will not have to relocate."

"She is a quick enough girl, however, and was able to describe to me quite clearly what she was able to observe, which regrettably was not so much as you might have hoped. She too saw the scar that my neighbour had noted, but she was able to determine that the tattoo through which it ran was an anchor that had been inked in blue," said I. "However he kept his face hidden by turning up the lapels of his jacket and pulling his hat low."

"This man with the rope burn was the one with the stick?" Mrs Kendrick inquired matter-of-factly.

"Rope burn?" I questioned.

"There are many ways for such a scar to be formed, as I'm sure you are aware," explained Mrs Kendrick, "but if the men have been sailors for any length of time, then they should have at some point sailed under canvas. It is unfortunate that sometimes before a line can be secured that the wind will gust quite strongly and catch the lines with such force that the ropes are pulled backwards through one's hands as they attempt to make the securing knots. The particular orientation of the hands at the time determines the location and direction of the scar. My father had a similar scar on one of his hands, only it ran between the second and third fingers."

"He would have certainly seen service under sail," interjected Holmes, "even had his scar not revealed it, for his tattoo tells of it. Such personal markings are only generally obtained in the Far East, where even our own illustrious Navy has not yet completed the transition from sail to steam. My brother was remarking only last week that the efficiency of the fleet should be greatly improved should the Admiralty undertake the expense to completely refit the Far East Fleet, for many of the smaller vessels are still under sail. But the matter of sail or steam bears little enough upon the problem at hand."

"And aside from the letter that I carry, I have quite exhausted my sources of information," noted I, producing the letter.

The envelope was like the envelopes of the other notes, unmarked and plain. There was no seal that might have yielded up a thumb-mark or other identifying feature, for the flap had merely been folded down under the edge of the facing paper to secure it closed. I passed it across to Sherlock Holmes, who took it from me with a sigh.

"If only the letters should be sealed normally, we should perhaps have had an answer to the riddle," he stated as he removed the envelope's contents carefully.

From the way I sat, I could not seen what he pulled from the envelope, but I could see his entire body react to whatever he had pulled from the plain paper. His nostrils were all aquiver and his eyebrows had drawn themselves together. Every fibre of his being had tensed, and he was quite ready to spring into action at the slightest hint of the direction in which his energies might best be expended.

"You had remarked earlier on the irrelevance of sail," noted the lady softly, with a slight chuckle in her voice.

"What is it?" I demanded impatiently.

Holmes held up a piece of stiff fabric that had been scrawled on with dark ink in the manner of the previous notes. There were four lines of poetry inscribed, this time with four words underlined with broad strokes to make them stand out from the rest. "It is a piece of sailcloth," Holmes informed me with a hint of laughter in his voice, passing me back the fabric.

The ink had bled slightly into the fabric, but it was still perfectly legible.

"Before we two again may meet," read I aloud,  
"Our troubles need be turned towards defeat.  
"As dangers do in days subside;  
"We shall our time in shadows bide."

"They're getting less and less subtle," commented Mrs Kendrick. "They go so far as to underline the words."

"I should think it is because the message has already been revealed by their actions," said Holmes, "unless I am much mistaken. There is no need for secrecy if it is apparent that this much at least has been found out."

"Which could imply that the messages may be pre-written, although the notes themselves are being penned in order as the circumstances dictate," observed Mrs Kendrick.

"It could," answered Sherlock Holmes in a way that almost made me think that he had not yet come to that conclusion. Then he caught onto the thought and elaborated on it in a manner that made me abandon my previous notion. "But then that may only be expected given the text of the notes. Twice are courses mentioned and twice is the word 'ancient' used. Whether ancient is to be taken in the concept of antiquity or rather just as a reference to things past, the word would tend to imply that a plan is being followed, and this is supported by the multiple use of the word 'courses.'"

Holmes was sharing much more information and reasoning than was his general custom. Typically, he would confine his thoughts to himself and I would have the details revealed once he had solved the problem. This time, however, I was much more able to follow the steps that were leading him onward to a conclusion, although I could still make neither heads nor tails of the facts that I possessed.

Following this outburst, for Holmes was generally closemouthed with his intermediate conclusions, he did lapse into a deep and contemplative silence. Mrs Kendrick continued with her mending, but I could see that her stitches became slower and I reasoned that she was not thinking of the course of her thread, but rather of the matter that was occupying Holmes's mind. For myself, I sat back in my chair and tried to turn the facts over in my mind to see if they would lead me to anything.


	11. Part II Chapter II

"I think that you should return home tonight, Watson" said Holmes after a period of silence.

"Home?" I questioned incredulously.

"Only for a short time," clarified Holmes. "Say at about ten o'clock."

I saw immediately what he was thinking. "I suppose that you wish to travel with me."

"I shouldn't dream of sending you alone," commented Holmes rather dreamily. He was still half-occupied with his thoughts.

"And the lady?" I inquired, glancing over at Mrs Kendrick. She met my gaze evenly.

"Although the watchers appear to have been drawn away, the matter must be resolved before I can feel that she is safe," stated Holmes. "She will stay here with us until then."

Although I did not express the thought aloud, I hoped that Holmes would be able to bring the case to a conclusion quickly. I felt confident in issuing medical clearance for Mrs Kendrick to travel now, for apart from the incident our first evening together, I had seen nothing that caused me grave concern for her, but time was running short. I knew that at any point events might be taken out of my hands and she would be unable to be moved without grave danger to her health, and, in that case, Holmes might find himself with a houseguest for a longer period of time than he was perhaps anticipating.

Mrs Kendrick offered no argument to the statement, but she looked up at Holmes. There was a gleam of eager anticipation in her eyes. "Are you quite sure that you wish to leave me alone with your reference materials while you and the doctor are away?" she asked mischievously.

"Alone?" said Holmes, his own serious eyes twinkling brightly. "I shouldn't think so. There is no telling what facts you might catch hold of. I will send for my brother. He shall keep you perfectly occupied, and away from my references, until Doctor Watson and I return."

I knew little enough of Holmes's brother Mycroft, having only formally met the man once, over the matter of the Greek interpreter, but I knew that he was generally loathe to go anywhere but his rooms or his club. "Will he come?" I asked.

"If I make the note intriguing enough," said Holmes, catching up a paper and a pencil from somewhere in the pile of books and correspondence at his side. He scribbled away for a few minutes before sitting up with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. He passed the paper over to me, asking, "What do you think?"

It was quite incomprehensible to me, being only a series of seemingly random words interspersed with figures. "Will your brother be able to read this?" I was forced to ask.

"I should certainly hope so," said Holmes, "though it doesn't actually say anything of substance. Mycroft will no doubt puzzle it out for several hours until he thinks that he has deciphered it, and then he will wonder how I have come upon this great government secret and will be forced to seek me out, lazy and set in his ways though he is."

"Will that be enough to bring him?" I inquired with some scepticism.

"I suppose we will see, won't we?" replied Holmes, standing. "I will deliver it to the telegraph office along with a note for our Baker Street Irregulars, for I think that they may be of some use."

I did not know to what task Holmes intended to set the young gang of street Arabs on, but I knew that they had served him invaluably on several other occasions and was not inclined to question his judgement. I knew that the dirty boys could go places and see things that would have been quite impossible for either Sherlock Holmes or I.

Holmes returned to us less than an hour after he left for the telegraph office, not stopping to detour to the docks and make further inquiries into the identities of our two mystery men as I thought he might. Either he already knew who the two men were, or he was still missing some vital piece of identification that would let him make that identification. I could not tell which and Holmes was remarkably uncommunicative about the whole matter, even more so than was his usual custom.

We three spent the afternoon in quiet pursuits. I alternately dozed and read a few medical journals that I brought with me from home, while Mrs Kendrick worked her way through all of the mending that Holmes had accumulated. I should think that it was for a lack of anything better to do with her hands while her mind was occupied with the problem of the notes. Although Holmes also spent the afternoon quietly, he was the most restless of us all. He would begin reading a monograph or a passage from one of his books only to throw it aside a moment later and take up something else. He returned several times to the three notes that we had in our possession, but he spoke not a word about anything to either of us.

We dined early for once, our silence carrying over into the meal that was usually so lively. Customarily we set aside the case during mealtimes to discuss other matters and Mrs Kendrick had proved to have wide-ranging interests. I had several opportunities to tell tales of my Afghan experience in relation to the conversation and Holmes followed the conversation eagerly, always with something of interest to note. Tonight, however, all was quiet. I would not have been averse to discussion, but as neither of my companions appeared inclined towards it, I did not press matters.

Although Holmes had proposed going to my home in Kensington at about ten o'clock, I knew that he would want to be there early enough to set a trap for whoever it was that was watching us. So I was not surprised when he rose from his seat at about eight o'clock and began to don his coat. I stood and began to wordlessly prepare myself as well. Holmes nodded to me with silent approval.

I had just finished wrapping my cravat about my neck when we heard someone pull the bell and a set of heavy footfalls come up the stairs. "Your brother Mycroft?" I asked.

Holmes nodded as a sharp rap came at the door. "Come in," called Holmes brusquely, even as the door swung open to reveal the large bulk of Mycroft Holmes.

The two brothers embraced warmly, and I was more than a little surprised at the show of affection. My one previous meeting with Mycroft Holmes had not led me to believe that there were such warm feelings between the two, although they got on well enough. Rather, I had been left with the general impression that Mycroft was somewhat averse to interaction with his fellow man. I made no move until Mycroft extended his broad hand to me.

"That is Mrs Marian Kendrick," Sherlock Holmes told Mycroft as his brother and I shook hands. He made a small gesture to the lady, who had turned to evaluate our visitor. "Mrs Kendrick, this is my brother Mycroft."

"Charmed," said she sweetly, dipping her head toward Mycroft.

I had expected Sherlock to make some further explanation or introduction, but he did nothing of the sort, instead starting immediately for the door. I followed after him hastily, clapping my hat on my head and closing the door behind me.

There was a cab waiting outside our door and I presumed that it was the one that Mycroft had come in, although Sherlock could have always arranged it while he delivered his telegraphs. I climbed into the cab after Holmes and the two of us travelled to my home. Other than the rattle of the wheels and the sound of the horse's hoofs, the only sound inside the cab was that of the rain beating down against the roof and the sides.

"Your consulting room has direct access from the road, does it not?" Holmes asked as we turned onto my street. "And a clear view to the street?"

"There is a side door that allows access without having to pass through the rest of the house, and, yes, the windows overlook the roadway."

"Then that is how we shall enter," said Holmes. "And that is where we will wait."


	12. Part II Chapter III

Holmes and I settled ourselves into the darkness of my consulting room. It had been a simple enough matter to slip in unseen through the side door, as my maid had been told she would not have to worry about her duties for a few days. "I hope," Holmes noted, breaking his silence, "that tonight's watch will prove fruitful." In the shadows, I saw him remove something from his pocket and slide it along the table between us toward me.

I picked it up, feeling the cool metal of a revolver. I was surprised to see the weapon, for I could not recall Holmes having gone near the drawer where his was kept all day. "My revolver is still in the desk at home," came my companion's voice out of the darkness, "just as your old Army revolver is no doubt locked away somewhere upstairs. But this weapon is for your use, on the off chance that we shall need it. I have another for myself."

"But from where…"

"The note I sent to my brother was more revealing than I shared initially," explained Holmes, "although there appeared to be neither rhyme nor reason to it."

"What exactly did you tell him?" I inquired curiously.

"I had him make a few discreet inquiries at the Admiralty, acquire these two revolvers, and to come to join us after he'd finished at the Diogenes Club," Holmes revealed. "Although I did rather press the final point in the manner I had earlier indicated to ensure that he wouldn't just send a messenger. I do hope that our dear Mrs Kendrick is up to defending herself against his inquiries."

For still another time, I was amazed at logical method by which my friend could deal with even the seemingly most complex problem or situation. "Is Mrs Kendrick spending her last evening at Baker Street defending herself against your brother?" I asked.

"I should imagine that she will rather enjoy it," Holmes noted. "But it will not be her last evening with us," he added reluctantly. "For all the time that we have spent puzzling over this case, I fear that we are no nearer the true situation than when we began and quite further from a solution than ever. In fact, I am beginning to fear that we have been going down the wrong course."

I was dismayed at Holmes's revelation and was grateful that the darkness hid it from my friend's keen eyes. "No nearer the true situation?" I repeated after a moment. "Do you doubt the veracity of Mrs Kendrick?"

"How dare you put such a slight upon the lady?" Holmes asked with a laugh that relieved some of the tension of the wait. "I have every confidence that Mrs Kendrick has shared with us every detail of the truth as she knows it," he continued, placing special emphasis on the last words.

The windows of the consulting room were closed against the rain and the two of us were conversing freely as we kept watch, knowing that we could not be heard beyond the confines of the room. "As she knows it?" I asked, turning my gaze from the window momentarily to look at my friend's dark form.

"I fear that she has been misled as to a few key matters," Holmes sighed. "Although I am sure that many would have been led even further from the truth than she has been." There was only admiration in Holmes's voice at this point. "She has brought us enough details to give us a start on the investigation and I am confident in stating that she has proved most troublesome for the men we are attempting to catch."

"On what matters has she been misled?" I questioned curiously.

"The true extent of that is yet to be revealed," Holmes replied cryptically. "Now, our hour approaches and we must keep a sharp watch."

We lapsed into a watchful silence as the rain continued to beat down on the roof and the wind whistled about the house, rattling the windowpanes. In the darkness, I am ashamed to admit that I began to allow my imagination quite run away with me until I imagined that we were under siege from a faerie army. In the rain falling, I could hear the battalions of elfin feet advancing upon us as we sat unaware. The wind howling down the chimney became their spectral banshee cries, calling them forward to an attack as surely as any bugle call. They besieged our windows with their fantastic artillery, attempting to breach through the perimeter of wood and glass to reach our sanctuary.

The clock in the hall chimed the hour and the distant bells could well have been taken as the advance of the faerie cavalry, so enraptured had I become with my own imaginings had Holmes's voice not broken through my reverie. I almost expected that he was giving warning of the impending attack, but of course he did nothing of the sort. "Your clock in the hall just struck half past eleven," he stated prosaically. "I suspect that the weather has kept our men away."

Although I would never have admitted it, I was grateful for the reassuring solidity of Holmes's statement and his dark form beside me. "We shall have trouble getting a cab at this hour and I don't fancy the walk," said I. "Let us turn up the lights and wait in comfort while I call for one."

Holmes struck a match and lit the lamps while I went to call for a cab. We had spent a rather unproductive evening and I only hoped that Mrs Kendrick and Mycroft had spent a more enjoyable evening than we had, sitting in the dark and making no progress at all on the case.

I returned to the consulting room with these thoughts in my mind only to find the side door open and Holmes gone. I was shocked as to the turn of events, and crossed immediately over to the door, only to encounter Holmes coming back in. He was soaked from the rain and clutched an envelope in his trembling hand. "They have bested us this time, Watson," he declared passionately. "But we will take care not to let it happen again."

Holmes explained to me what had transpired after I left the room. Once the lights were up, he had seen a bit of white sticking out from beneath one of the larger stones that lined the path leading up to the front door of the house. He knew that it hadn't been there when we began to keep our watch and had immediately darted outside to investigate. There, beneath the stone, he had found the dirt-streaked envelope he now clutched in his hand.

"This rain has prevented me from being able to see any footprints," Holmes complained bitterly, "and we have no way of knowing when the letter was placed there, but that it was not there when we approached and it was there when we turned up the lights. How could we have missed such a thing?"

"The sound of the wind and rain must have covered any noise made by the deliverer," I proposed logically.

"But what of his shape? No amount of noise should have hid that sign of his approach and work. I think, my dear Watson, that we are being watched far more carefully than we had initially thought."

I was at a loss, unable to explain how we should have missed that when we were both staring eagerly out the window the entire time we had been in the room and dismayed that we were up against such worthy adversaries. With one further clue in hand, but heavy hearts, we awaited the cab that would come to take us to Baker Street.

When we arrived back at our lodgings, we were unsurprised to find all the lights burning bright and Mrs Kendrick deeply absorbed in an argument with Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock was, however, a bit taken aback by the energy that his brother was showing.

"No, no!" Mycroft was declaring fervently as we entered, waving his hands in an attempt to demonstrate his point. "It could not have been that for the facts disallow it."

"Which facts, Mr Holmes?" Mrs Kendrick demanded archly.

"The Shipping Act of 1654 as the earliest example," Mycroft informed her testily, not taking the slightest notice of our entry. "Followed by the Reform Act of 1669, the 1703 Tax Laws, the 1715 amendments to the previous Import Acts, and eighteen other distinct pieces of legislation. Not to mention innumerable cases of legal precedent, both locally and nationally, including the Sherringworth case of two years ago!"

"I'm aware of the impossibilities," she retorted rather hotly, "but we're not discussing the possibility of the thing. Rather, we have been discussing whether or not such an action did or did not take place, impossible or not!"

"Ah," Sherlock commented to me as we removed our sodden coats, "I see that Brother Mycroft has in fact latched upon several of the facts I provided in that telegram I sent."

I could recall nothing from the telegram that Sherlock Holmes had shown me that would have led to invocations of the various acts and court cases that Mycroft was citing. "I hope that you have not been kept waiting on us for too long," said I, breaking into the conversation as soon as the two paused.

Mycroft harrumphed without bothering to look in my direction and Mrs Kendrick crossed her arms firmly over her chest and stared at him. "It did happen," she stated. "That much you can't deny."

"Whether it happened or not is irrelevant," Mycroft replied loftily. "What matters is that it was impossible."


	13. Part II Chapter IV

Mycroft took himself away and it was easy enough to tell that neither he nor Mrs Kendrick were entirely satisfied as to the resolution of the argument, although they parted cordially enough. Holmes had already put the matter completely out of his mind, and as I had no idea as to what the topic of the argument had been, it was an easy enough matter for me to do the same.

Holmes took himself away to change out of his sodden clothes, and I informed Mrs Kendrick as to the progression of events that Holmes and I had witnessed, or rather, the events that we had failed to witness, while we waited for him to return with the envelope. Both Mrs Kendrick and I were eager for more information, but neither of us was more impatient than Holmes, for he was out with us before he had hardly finished dressing.

The envelope, aside from being damp from the weather and smeared with dirt from its resting place beneath the rock, was identical to the other three envelopes that we now possessed. However, the rock had to have offered some protection from the weather, as the paper was not nearly as wet as it should have been for the amount of time that it had spent outdoors.

I had expected Holmes to draw out something exotic and immediately recognizable from the envelope, but instead, the paper did not appear to be anything worth noting. However, as I watched, a broad smile rose on Sherlock Holmes's face as he sat looking at the altogether unremarkable piece of paper he held in his hands. "Rice paper," he said triumphantly after a moment, turning it over in his hands.

"What does it say?" I asked, noting typical four lines of verse scrawled upon it in some sort of reddish ink. Although rice paper was certainly unusual, I saw more information to be gained from the note than from the paper on which it was written.

Holmes passed it across to me with one of his usual instructions. "Read it aloud, Watson, for I should like to hear the words spoken."

I complied. "The _lines_ of blood _run_ both noble and deep,  
"E'en into an ever-lasting sleep.  
"Ensure that you give our warning proper heed,  
"For _to_ _you_ evil's work is close indeed."

I squinted at the page, looking for distinctions between words that would spell out the hidden message, as had been the case with the other notes. There was nothing obvious but that a few words appeared to be written somewhat darker than the others. I strung the words together and read them out. "Lines run to you."

Holmes snorted with some derision. "They have told us nothing but that which we already know. They could hardly have made things more plain!"

"Before we two again may meet," Mrs Kendrick quoted softly from the previous note. There was something in her voice that made me look to her sharply. The flush from her earlier arguments was entirely gone and her face was as white as the sheet of paper that I held in my hand. "Our trouble need be turned toward defeat."

Holmes also seized upon the reaction. "What is it?" he demanded impatiently, caught up in the throes of the excitement and quite forgetting his usual manners.

"I don't know," she answered distractedly, laboriously pushing herself up to a standing position. I would have made some move to help her, but I didn't think she would welcome any intrusion into whatever thoughts had suddenly consumed her. "I don't know," she repeated, turning away from us and moving to stare out the bow window.

"Mrs Kendrick," said I, with more than a little concern evident in my voice, "are you alright?"

She barely acknowledged that I was speaking to her; only a slight distracted nod of showed that she had heard me. I stood and took a step toward her, only to be waved back irritably by Holmes. "Leave her be," he hissed, holding out his hand for the note that I still clutched. I reluctantly complied, handing him the note and perching myself uneasily on the edge of my seat, ready to spring up at the slightest provocation.

Mrs Kendrick stared fixedly out the window into the rain, but it was obvious that she saw nothing of the grey and dreary night. She was occupied with something else entirely, something that I could not begin to fathom. If Sherlock Holmes knew what things concerned her, he said nothing of them, instead taking up his lens and giving a careful examination to all three notes while I watched Mrs Kendrick with growing concern.

As I watched, I thought I saw her shoulders twitch convulsively, but her face was hidden in the shadows and I couldn't be sure as to the cause. I stood up from my chair and made my way over to the sideboard, with the intent to gain a better observation post without disturbing either of my companions. However, I did detour slightly from the most direct course so that I could pass nearer to her. If Holmes noted it, he said nothing.

I was standing not far from her, under the pretence of examining one of Holmes's newer curios when I saw her shoulders heave. I reacted instantly, grasping the nearest container at hand. It happened to be a large and rather garish vase that had been given to Holmes as a reward from some wealthy and noble client who did not wish their name to be widely known. Although I thought it quite ugly, he was rather fond of it for some reason.

"Watson," cried Holmes in dismay starting up from his seat as he saw me take it up, "what are you doing? That was a gift…"

The rest of his protest was cut off by the lady's retching and he offered no more difficulty as I held the vase before her with one hand and restrained the her loose hair with the other. She was trembling like a leaf by the time she had finished and I ushered her without protest to the sofa, forcing her to lie back and rest.

"Perhaps you should retire," I suggested gently after a moment, not wanting to further upset her in any way.

"Mr Holmes," she started, ignoring me completely, "my father comes from generations of sea-faring people, and, had I been a son, I should have followed without hesitation in his wake. As it was, I followed as nearly as I could, becoming first a naval nurse and then marrying a sailor. Although my father died when I was still a child, I have hopes that he would have been pleased to have the sea remain in our family's blood."

"Were you an only child then?" Holmes inquired gently. Although he was still fairly trembling with excitement, realizing that we were on the verge of a revelation, his manner had completely changed from his impatience of only a few minutes ago.

"No," Mrs Kendrick told him. "I was not. I am the eldest of four daughters. And I once had an older brother."

"Once?" pressed Holmes. He was drawing something out of her, and I had the distinct impression that he knew the information already but just wanted to hear it from her own lips.

"In actuality, he was only a half-brother," said Mrs Kendrick. "He was the son of my mother's first husband, and although he was nearly ten years between he and I, I was closer to him than I was to any of my sisters. He was more than a brother; he was a very dear friend, and I felt his loss keenly, perhaps even more keenly than my mother, for all that she held him dear.

"He joined the Navy because he thought that it would have pleased my father, whose dearest wish had been to have a son follow in his footsteps. He did this although he himself had no great love of the sea," continued Mrs Kendrick, her voice starting to tremble. "His vessel was lost with almost all hands on his first voyage out of home waters, on their return from India."

"Almost all hands?" Holmes prompted.

"There were a few survivors found washed ashore, clinging to pieces of the hull," Mrs Kendrick said softly, "my brother not among them. However, two of his closest friends were, and one sent my mother a letter not long after, telling me what had happened."

"Did he not tell your mother as well?" I asked when she paused. I could not help but have noticed the shift in pronouns. The letter had been sent to her mother, but she was the one who had been told what happened.

"We wrote to one another in code, my brother and I," she answered, completely unsurprisingly. "His two friends knew the code, for the three of them invented the system together. We would indicate sections within the letter, and then mark words within that section to give a message. That message would then give the key to the sections that had been indicated, which would give the final concealed text, which was encoded in telegraph code. The number of letters per word would combine with the key to yield the dots and dashes, which would then have to be decoded for the message. It took hours to write and nearly as long to decode because it was so subtle. If one thing was missed, the entire message would be completely unreadable."

Her voice had taken on a wistful quality and it was clear that she was spent. But despite that, I was torn. As a medical man, I should have immediately insisted that she retire and not stir until the morning, at the very least. But my curiosity had been aroused and I was anxious to see what coded messages the notes held, and she was the only one who knew for certain how to do that.

I hovered on the brink of indecision for a moment too long and Sherlock Holmes made the decision for me. "There will be time enough for decoding in the morning," said he, although with some reluctance. "There are four messages and if each takes as long as you had indicated, we will have a hard morning's work before us to reveal all. A good night's rest will do us good."

I concurred immediately, more than a little abashed at my previous reluctance to follow what I knew to be the best course of action. I more than made up for it though by insisting firmly that Mrs Kendrick was not to stir from her bed until I had seen to her in the morning. She was weak and ill enough to not put up an argument, and Holmes gave me her word that he would guard against any unnecessary activity on her part.

I had thought to sit up with Holmes and talk over these newest revelations, but he settled himself on the sofa with his pipe and a large quantity of tobacco, the notes spread out before him in sequence. Rather than spend the night in the chair while Holmes filled the room with thick tobacco smoke, I too retired, anxious to see what the morning would bring. 


	14. Part II Chapter V

I was eager to learn what secrets the notes were hiding and I did not sleep well, rising well before dawn. It was futile to attempt to go back to sleep, although I tried for quite some time, and eventually I ceded defeat, dressing and descending the stairs to the sitting room.

I had expected the room to be blue with smoke from Sherlock Holmes's tobacco, but the air was clear. Obviously a window had been opened at some point to allow some fresh air into the room. Holmes was still staring at the notes, though his pipe had been set aside. "Good morning, Watson," he commented distractedly as I entered.

I glanced at the clock over the mantelpiece, trying to decide if I should try Mrs Kendrick or not. It was early, but she had already proven herself to be a very early riser. "She is asleep as yet," Holmes commented, observing my gaze alternating between the clock and the closed door. I nodded and settled myself in the armchair. I would not wake her. The puzzle of the notes would have to wait until she'd roused herself. "I should not think that she spent an easy night."

Although the floor was nearly always littered with stacks of Holmes's personal papers and with documents pertaining to recently solved cases, the area around Holmes was carpeted with crumpled and discarded sheets torn from his notebook. "Have you managed it yet?" I inquired, picking up a piece and smoothing it out over my knee. It was filled with scribblings and lines of dots and dashes.

Holmes sighed and shook his head. "Although I thought I had, I unfortunately did not get quite enough information from Mrs Kendrick to get much further than half a notebook of unsuccessful attempts," said he. "But it is an ingenious system that allows three distinct messages to be contained within one short passage of text. It is quite remarkable and something that Brother Mycroft should love to take his hand to."

I examined the page I had smoothed out and could manage to make no more sense out of it than a series of numbers circled and underlined in a seemingly haphazard manner. It took a moment to remember what Mrs Kendrick had said and reason that the numbers must be the number of letters contained in each word of each line of the poems. The myriad number of possibilities that could be contained within such a system was enough to make my head spin. "Never have I seen anything like this," I commented.

"I should have liked to have met these three men that came up with this," Holmes responded with approval. "Although at least two of the three are still alive and are here in London, I should have liked to have met the group together."

"Those two men are the survivors then?"

Holmes nodded shortly. "I begin to hear stirrings from the other room. Perhaps you would care to see to Mrs Kendrick and we shall have our mystery resolved for once and all," he suggested.

I had not noticed the sounds coming from Holmes's bedroom, but once my attention had been drawn to them, they were easily apparent. I nodded my agreement and crossed to rap lightly on the door. "Mrs Kendrick," I called very softly, just in case she was still not awake.

"You may enter if you wish, doctor," she answered with a clearly audible sigh.

I pushed open the door, entering the room and immediately closing the door behind me. I knew that Holmes had seen her more than once clad only in a nightdress and dressing gown, but I still intended to preserve as much of a sense of propriety as could be salvaged considering the current situation.

Mrs Kendrick lay in bed, as I had ordered, with the bedclothes drawn up beneath her arms. Her face bore the telltale signs of tears having been shed the previous night, but I made no comment. Instead I made a few inquiries into her state and deemed it safe for her to dress and join Holes and I in the other room. I had a few misgivings, but she reminded me of her nursing experience and vowed to exercise discretion and alert me if she began to feel ill in any way.

I returned to the sitting room so that she could dress and Holmes and I waited eagerly for her to join us. Holmes undertook preparations, recopying the four notes on separate scraps of paper so that both he and Mrs Kendrick could have their own sets to work from. He added on both the number of letters that appeared in each word, consulted one of his references to ensure that he had the Morse alphabet copied properly, and sat back, obviously unable to continue any further without guidance.

Mrs Kendrick was out with us before long and Holmes settled her in a chair with the materials that he had arranged. "Would you like something to eat before we begin?" I inquired of her before Holmes had a chance to say much of anything.

"Not at this moment, thank you, doctor," she told me, taking up the first of the notes. "I would rather reach the solution to this problem."

Holmes leaned in closer and waited for her to explain the details of the code so that they could get started on the notes before them. I took up my own notebook and made notes, for I record all of Holmes's cases that I am involved in, although the vast majority are never intended for publishing, this counted among that number.

The final cipher was quite simple for all of its subtleties and complexness. As we had initially noted, there was a second message contained within the two rhyming couplets. That message was the key for the next step in the decoding. As an example, I have reproduced the decoding process of the first note we received.

The full text, with the number of letters per word noted at the end, runs:

Round about the world does go – (5 4 3 5 4 2)  
Be men such fools they cannot know – (2 3 4 5 4 6 4)  
What ancient laws _they _do now tempt – (4 6 4 4 2 3 5)  
None among them we shall _hold _exempt – (4 5 4 2 4 4 6)

The key in this is: _They hold._ Both words of the key contain four letters. Words with the same number of letters as a word in the key become dashes, while words containing differing numbers of letters become dashes. However, only those lines containing words of the key have this treatment applied to them to yield the telegraphed message.

With this information, it may be seen that the above poem is translated to:

From this point, the decoding becomes a matter of logic to determine the breaks between the letters and reveal the final message. In this case: K NEE CR

Although I had observed as Mrs Kendrick and Holmes worked through to this step, I found the end results to be less than illuminating. In order, the four messages yielded the following results:

K NEE CR

NG K NW IT

REV 1 11 TM1 6 7

TO C AT MAN

Once the messages were down to this form, a fair amount of time had passed and I was becoming quite ravenously hungry. Neither Holmes nor Mrs Kendrick, however, appeared much inclined to take a break at this point, so I resigned myself to it and waited for them to reveal the final messages hidden underneath the layers of cipher.

"I can only assume that the first one references me," said Mrs Kendrick with a sigh, looking over the four short sentences. "Kendrick née Cr. My maiden name was Corlett."

"These messages are being used to pass information between parties," Holmes noted excitedly. "Obviously more than one message is being passed, otherwise they shouldn't bother with such a complicated and time-consuming system."

"Or the messages go through a middle-man who is to receive some information, but not all of it," Mrs Kendrick suggested. "It is a simple enough matter to find the first hidden text, but it is the second that becomes more difficult."

Holmes nodded and passed across the second message. It looked like complete gibberish to me, but it obviously made some sense to Mrs Kendrick for she looked at it for only a few minutes before explaining, "NG was always 'no good'. K must be the same reference again. NW was now, because it was often difficult to get all of the dashes together in a row for the O without making the letter itself sound too forced."

"No good. Kendrick now it," I read out.

"We must be missing pieces of the correspondence," Holmes noted with a raised eyebrow. "It may be that we are intercepting, or that we are being passed information," he murmured to himself. He continued, noting a few other things, but those were not audible from my position and I did not know what he concluded.

"What of this next one?" I questioned instead, pointing to the third line. It was quite unlike the other three in that it contained numbers. "It doesn't fit the pattern of the others."

"In more than one way," Holmes commented. "And that is only to be expected considering it was written by an entirely different person. We'll come back to that one," he declared.

"To C at man," I read from the final message. It was plain enough to read. "But who is the man?" I inquired.

"I would guess that they refer not to a person, but rather to the Isle of Man," said Mrs Kendrick. "My father's family has lived there for generations, but he made his shore home in Herefordshire, for the sake of my mother, who had never lived elsewhere. I still have one uncle who resides there, a long-retired ship's carpenter, along with man more distant cousins."

"This problem was quite the span for so narrow a solution," Holmes remarked, leaning back in his chair with satisfaction.

"Have you solved it?" I asked eagerly.

"It is not wise to come to conclusions before all of the facts are known," Holmes commented offhandedly. But his manner plainly suggested that he had all the facts he needed at this juncture. However, I knew well his predilection for knowing the full set of circumstances surrounding any issue and knew that he would not lay anything aside until he had all the details.

"What is this final message?" I questioned, looking down at the only remaining line. "It looks almost like Biblical references," I noted in surprise after I'd studied it for a moment.

"It would look like references," Holmes replied, "for that is what they are. It is a custom of naval captains to use various verses to communicate amongst one another, although it is a rare skill for a mere sailor to be able to use the same methods. But then it is a rare sailor who is sufficiently conversant in the same references."

"I can only imagine that it is also a rare sailor who can devise such a complex cipher system," said I. "So it is not so surprising that they should also be able to utilize the latter system."

"No," Holmes agreed. "It is not." 


	15. Part II Chapter VI

Holmes found a Bible amidst his reference materials and brought it over to us. Handing it to me, he directed, "Revelations, chapter one and verse eleven."

I read, "Saying, I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last: and, What thou seest, write in a book, and send it unto the seven churches which are in Asia; unto Ephesus, and unto Smyrna, and unto Pergamos, and unto Thyatira, and unto Sardis, and unto Philadelphia, and unto Laodicea."

"And First Timothy, chapter six and verse seven."

"For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out," I obliged, turning to the proper verse.

"Have either of the verses especial significance with you?" Holmes inquired of Mrs Kendrick when I had finished.

"None before this reading of them," she told him. "Although, if you do not already know it, I can give you the name of the writer of this note," she continued confidently. "For only one of my brother's two friends ever achieved sufficient proficiency with the use of Biblical references to have composed this message: William Thomason. He was the one kind enough to send the letter following my brother's death."

"The other is then the one which we must guard against," Holmes cautioned, "for this Thomason is aiding us in whatever means he may against his old friend. Is the name Hancock familiar to you?"

"It is," Mrs Kendrick replied after a brief pause with a strange expression on her face, "but perhaps not in the way that you may be expecting. As I had earlier recounted, my landlady, Mrs Forrest, was summoned to her sister's bedside. The name of the sister is Hancock, while the name of my brother's friend was Trumper."

"The thread winds tighter than I had at first suspected," said Holmes, bounding to his feet and dashing across to his desk. He opened one of the books that sat upon it and withdrew a few pages. "I had known of the man, Thomason, for there are few occupations that would allow a lamed man to continue naval service, and it was a simple enough matter to have him traced. But it was another man, this Hancock, that had not at first fit within the neat confines of the rest of the evidence. And, as you are well aware, if a fact does not fit with the rest, there is some other linking fact that has been missed. We have just been provided that necessary linking fact and all begins to fall neatly into place."

"But what does Thomason mean with this talk of the seven churches?" I asked with the Bible still opened on my lap. "Surely he cannot mean actual churches."

"There are a great deal more churches than seven. Why seven times seven churches were built in the aftermath of the 1666 fire alone!" Holmes declared. "No, rather he refers to something of which the city has only seven."

"But what?" I asked, searching my mind for something of which the great and sprawling city had only seven of, not more and not less. But I was met with no answer as my companions considered the options. "Some people considered there to be seven principle bridges across the Thames," I suggested after a moment.

"Foot bridges or railway bridges?" Holmes asked with a raised eyebrow. "There are eight principle foot bridges – Chelsea, Vauxhall, Westminster, Waterloo, Blackfriars, Southwark, London, and Tower – and other less notable besides those. And there are only six chief rail bridges. No, my dear Watson, I shouldn't think that seven he refers us to are bridges."

"What then?" The only other seven I could bring to mind were the Seven Seas, and those clearly could not be of use in passing a message along.

"The city gates," said Mrs Kendrick. "There were seven gates to the city of London."

"But see, you were not so far off after all, Watson," Holmes added, "for one of the ancient gates was in fact a bridge. And that is our best chance to contact this Thomason."

"But how?"

Sherlock Holmes gave me a knowing smile and a short laugh. "By following the instructions that he has himself given us. We will write our message in a book and leave it, with some watching, on London Bridge, for our unknown friend to find."

I was much intrigued as to how exactly Holmes intended to leave his message, and further still how he intended to keep the true meaning concealed from anyone else who might happen to intercept the message, for I knew that Holmes would not write such a delicate thing in plain language. Holmes took the Bible from me, leafing through it for several moments, reading passages and then shaking his head with disapproval.

"I should like to make use of this cipher system of yours," Holmes commented to Mrs Kendrick after some time had passed, scratching out a short note on a piece of scratch paper. I thought it extraordinarily brief, considering the circumstances, but Mrs Kendrick cried out to the contrary.

"Mr Holmes, you can't be serious! Nothing in that may be omitted or altered for the sake of the other layers of the message and once in telegraphed form, that short message is extraordinarily long."

"If you are unable to do it," he commented evenly, "then we will be forced to resort to other, and no doubt less secure, means." It sounded almost as though Holmes were issuing out a challenge to her.

"I did not say that it was not possible," she retorted hotly. "I was merely informing you that this message will take a considerable amount of time to cipher properly."

"Watson and I need to make a few inquiries out in the city," Holmes replied, still completely nonplussed, "and we will return before nightfall. The message must be ready and copied properly before we return. If you don't believe that you can manage it, then we will make alternate arrangements while we are out."

Mrs Kendrick didn't respond, instead staring at Holmes with a look of displeasure. Sherlock Holmes did not appear to be disturbed by her reaction and instead went about gathering up a few things, shoving them into the pockets of his coat, before looking over to see if I was ready to leave on whatever tasks we had waiting. I had immediately moved to don my own coat and hat, so that Holmes would not be kept waiting on me, and the two of us moved out into the hall without another word, only a shared glance.

Holmes stopped for a moment to leave some instructions with the pageboy and then we stepped out into the damp street. It wasn't raining, but the air was heavy and damp, almost oppressive. The grey clouds loomed low and wet over us and I wished that I had thought to bring an umbrella with me, for it was certain to rain at some point and I had no desire to be caught in the downpour unprepared. I considered going back upstairs and fetching one, but Holmes showed no sign of such thoughts and started off down the street.

"We shouldn't be outside for long enough that you'll have need of an umbrella, Watson," Holmes called back over his shoulder as I trailed behind him. "We have a few inquiries to make at the naval offices, and then there is a noted cello virtuoso giving a concert that I should very much like to attend. I few finish at the naval offices, we may have time for lunch before the concert."

I was astounded yet again by my companion's ability to suddenly switch topics within his mind, almost as though he had turned the analytical part off for a few hours. "Surely you cannot mean to attend a concert this afternoon?" I asked in some shock. After all, we had just left Mrs Kendrick to cipher a complicated message that would hopefully all but resolve the case before us.

"What better way is there for us to pass this dreary afternoon, my good doctor?" Holmes asked cheerily. "We are nearly at a solution for this case and can do nothing further until this evening. The message is in capable hands, and I made it complex enough for her that she will be occupied until we return. I would have invited her along, but you, of course, would not have allowed that.

I sputtered a bit, but could think of no response to his statement. Finally, I resigned myself to it and said, "What business do we have at the naval offices?"


	16. Part III Chapter Ia

Holmes and I did spend an exceedingly pleasant afternoon. Our errands did not take us long at the naval offices, for Holmes had very specific inquiries that the clerk could not deny him, and there was time for us to take a leisurely lunch prior to the concert. The cellist was skilful and played many of my favourite concertos and sonatas, and I enjoyed myself, although I did feel somewhat guilty for having forgotten myself so much while Mrs Kendrick had been left behind in the Baker Street apartment with what in the end was so much busywork.

When we returned to Baker Street, we found an untouched tray of food resting on the table, half a pot of stone-cold tea sitting on the middle of the sofa, discarded papers strewn about the room, a fire than had been allowed to burn nearly out, and an empty inkwell. Although Sherlock Holmes and I were both more relaxed for our afternoon activities, it was plainly evident from the state of the sitting room that the same could not be said of our lady companion.

She was standing by the window as we entered the room and turned to face Holmes, ignoring my presence. "If there happens to be need for a second message," she told him with evident frustration, "and you insist upon writing the concealed text, then you will be the one who must cipher it." There were ink stains spotting her white fingers and she held a piece of paper neatly folded in her hand.

It was this paper that Holmes looked to eagerly, ignoring her irritation with him completely. "Did you really cipher the entire thing?" he asked with some surprise. "I had thought that you should certainly have abbreviated it or altered it somehow." He reached out for it, not taking time to remove either hat or coat.

"It is exactly as you had written," she told him, thrusting the paper toward him. "However, due to the length, I was unable to use the same sets of rhyming couplets that our friend had used. Hopefully two sextets will suffice, composed in couplets as they are." Her tone was crisper than it had been since we met her and I began to wonder if Holmes had not pressed matters too far.

"This is better than I had hoped," Holmes declared, unfolding the sheet and looking at what she had written. "My dear lady, you have done wonderfully and I am much reproved." He doffed his cap to her and sank down in a slight bow. She relaxed her posture slightly as Holmes stood and passed the note to me.

I read, "Had our warning they cared _to_ hear,  
"Nothing _us_ now would cheer,  
"However they ne'er did our _council_entreat,  
"So their great triumph becomes instead defeat.  
"This _is _what they feared the most,  
"Lesser men would have dared not boast.

"Of _offered _aide the wise man thieves,  
"For enemies offer it rare indeed.  
"_We _this outcome did not divine,  
"However our _consent _we do now assign.  
"The twists of fate we cannot know,  
"For the river of time will ne'er stop its flow."

"Now we can only hope that Thomason has time enough to decode the message and answer our summons," Holmes noted, tossing aside his hat and removing his coat. "For it is only once we have spoken with him that we may truly bring this mystery to its full conclusion."

It was at this juncture that we heard the bell and the trooping of feet up the stairs. "Ah, Wiggins," said Holmes, hurrying across to the door and ushering the street Arab into the room. "I am glad to see that you are at least punctual today." From this comment, I gathered that Holmes had previously had difficulty with the young boys he employed not reporting in as ordered. Of course not being involved with so intimately with Holmes's cases as I once had been, I could not state this with complete certainty.

"Aye, guv'nor," Wiggins said, rubbing at his filthy chin with a hand that was equally as dirty. "You've got more work for us?"

"A copper penny for you each now," said Holmes, reaching into his pocket for the requisite number of coins, "and another two upon a job well completed."

"'tis an easy job then," Wiggins noted with a sigh. For long tasks or difficult observations the boys were paid up to a shilling a piece upon successfully carrying out their duties. "Can't say that I mind it though," he added, "for the last job you set us to was hard enough, Mr Holmes."

"The note please, Watson," said Holmes. I handed the page to him, refolding it. Holmes thrust it into an envelope and secreted the envelope away inside a thick book he drew from his stacks. "You will take this book and wait on London Bridge. Use the rest of the Irregulars to keep a sharp watch for a sailor carrying a heavy stick and walking with a limp. Now," Holmes continued, "these features may easily enough be feigned, but do not give this book to one who does not have the blue tattoo of an anchor on his hand just here, cut through by a thick scar."

"And if someone else comes asking after this book?" Wiggins inquired.

Holmes hid an empty envelope inside another book and handed that to Wiggins as well. "Then give them this," he directed. Wiggins nodded and scurried away down the stairs, books tucked beneath his arm and copper coins clutched in his hand.

"What again did the note direct?" I asked once the boy was gone.

* * *

**Editor's Note**

All of the messages do, in fact, contain the enciphered messages indicated. The above poem written by Mrs Marian Kendrick also contains the message written by Holmes. For those who wish to embark upon some mental exercise, Doctor Watson's chronicle has been split at this point to not have the doctor's question answered too soon and spoil the exercise for those few who may wish to undertake it.

To decipher the message, follow the instructions recounted by Doctor Watson in the preceeding sections. Remember to use only those lines of the poem that contain words in the key (in italics) and to count any word in those lines with the same number of letters as any word in the key as a dash (dah). All others count as dot (di). Any numbers that the message may contain will be in 'cut' or abbreviated form. The Morse alphabet and abbreviated numbers may be found at:

www . kent-engineers . com / thecode . htm


	17. Part III Chapter Ib

"It contained our address and this reference: Psalm 143, verse eight," Holmes replied. He was not forthcoming with the text and I was not familiar enough with that psalm to be able to quote the verse from memory.

Crossing over to the open Bible, I read aloud the text. "Cause me to hear thy loving-kindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust: cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee." I raised an eyebrow quizzically at Holmes.

"It was the most concise way I could think of to thank him for his aide and direct him to meet us here tomorrow morning," said Holmes, "poetic language aside. Just think what trouble our dear lady should have had to go to had I not settled on such a concise message," he added innocently. But his face was turned to me and I could plainly see a rare jesting smile written upon Holmes's angular features.

His only answer was a soft snort of derision from the lady in question.

"Shall we try it again with something less concise then?" Holmes suggested, goading her onward. He was obviously having his revenge for something that she had either said or done during those nights that they had sat up arguing with one another while I slept.

"As I stated, Mr Holmes," she replied, fixing him with a glare that was not altogether good-natured, "if you insist upon setting the message of any other cipher, you will be enciphering it yourself, with no aide whatsoever from me."

Holmes threw back his head and laughed heartily at this fervent declaration. "I am sorry," he chortled, "but you rose marvellously to the challenge. I should not have been able to compose such a thing myself, but rather would have reverted to prose, as I have no knack with poetry at all."

Mrs Kendrick sighed and finally let small smile grow on her stern face. "I have no great skill either," she admitted, "and had to settle for only a close match at least one of the rhymes. I can only imagine that poetry would be a good sight easier if one did not always have to be concerned with both word length and rhyme."

I had laid aside coat and hat was occupied with building up the fire once again, but I could only imagine it quite a task to compose a poem bound not only by the regimented rules of rhythm and rhyme, but also constrained by the necessity of keeping nearly every word at a requisite length. "I would say that you have a good hand for it," said I, feeling that after her afternoon of hard work she was deserving of the compliment.

"More than that," Holmes declared with pride. "I would say that she has a good head for it." Valuing the mind as Holmes did, that was one of the highest compliments that he could pay to her. She obviously realized it, for she could not help but flush with well-deserved pleasure. 


	18. Part III Chapter II

The rest of the night seemed to drag by as though time were slowing itself out of spite for our eager anticipation of the morning. I felt as though I could not sleep a wink, but when I went up to my room to try, I surprised myself by falling into a deep sleep almost immediately. I was however, up and dressed well before dawn to join Sherlock Holmes and Mrs Kendrick waiting in eager anticipation of our visitor's arrival. I, however, was not quite so convinced as Holmes as to the friendly nature of our expected visitor and had slipped my revolver into my pocket as a guard. It never hurt to err toward the cautious.

We had drawn back the curtains from the bow window so as to have a clear view down to the street so we could observe the approach of our anticipated visitor. I feel safe in stating that between the three of us, we kept a constant watch on the street outside, although each of us sat with an open book, pretending to read.

The sun was barely up when we saw someone approaching down the empty street toward our door. As he drew closer we could see that he was dressed as we had expected, in the fashion of a sailor, with dark pants and a heavy pea coat buttoned close about him. He was carrying a walking stick and he made use of it occasionally, although not with every step. He appeared to be carrying it as much from habit as from true need.

Sherlock Holmes dashed down the stairs to greet the man and show him in, his desire being that we not rouse Mrs Hudson by te ringing of the bell. He left the two of us waiting upstairs, Mrs Kendrick nervously fiddling with her hair and I reaching down to finger the revolver in my pocket.

Holmes's footsteps were soon on the stairs heading back up toward us and behind his familiar tread came the uneven footfalls of our visitor. Both Mrs Kendrick and I were on our feet to greet our visitor when he entered the sitting room, hard on the heels of Holmes.

"Marian," the man breathed as saw her, his dark features immediately lightening.

"William," she answered, crossing to take his hand. "You have changed so much since…"

"Since Arthur introduced us," the man finished somewhat sadly. "So very much has changed since we met." Mrs Kendrick nodded her agreement.

"Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson," said she turning toward us, "I should like to introduce you to William Thomason, a very dear friend of my late brother."

Holmes nodded curtly to the man and withdrew his pistol from his pocket, placing it upon his desk. "The pleasure is mine," replied Holmes, "and I apologize for the necessary precautions." I took the opportunity to divest myself of my own weapon, placing it beside Holmes's.

"I should have been a good deal more concerned had you not," Thomason admitted, grasping each of our hands in turn as we offered them to him. His grip was firm and his hands rough, but his manner of speaking rather more refined than I should have expected from one who had spent much of their life in the service of the Navy. "I am much relieved to know that Marian has been in such capable care as yours."

"And yet," said Holmes taking a seat, "you have not ceased your watch over her."

"Aye," Thomason told him, revealing himself, "that is the truth as well. Although once she came under your care I was able to go about the dog watch in somewhat a different manner."

"Tell us what you know of this matter," urged Holmes as the rest of us followed his lead and sat, "for our time runs short."

"It runs shorter than you may suspect, Mr Holmes," said Thomason.

"I am aware that all rests with our mutual charge," answered Holmes.

"Aye, that it does." And with that small segue Thomason launched his tale. "As Marian has no doubt told you, her brother Arthur and I were shipmates, neither one of us cut out to be sailors, but both having joined for reasons other than the sea. We trained together along with another man who came to be a close friend, George Trumper. We three spent our time aboard ship together and came to know each other as well as men can expect to know one another.

"Arthur and I were closer with one another than we were with George, and George felt slighted by it. He never mentioned it outright, but he would comment offhandedly to others various things that we had revealed to one another in confidence, thinking our secrets safe among friends. It was perhaps this that drew us two together closer, to the exclusion of George. But still, aboard ship, even in home waters, it is impossible to avoid another man, especially one you call friend.

"We all three knew each other's histories. We knew that George came from a rough life in Liverpool, having been orphaned at a young age and left to the care of two matron aunts. We knew that Arthur was a half-orphan who had been adopted by a Naval lieutenant who had died not long after making him legal heir. And we knew that I would have rather been studying literature at one of the universities, but had not had sufficient funds for it. There were points in all of our stories where we had commonalities and while that should have drawn us together, in the end it only pushed us further apart.

"Arthur had worked in a telegraph office for some years before he had joined and he taught us three the alphabet to pass the time aboard ship when we had no better ways to occupy ourselves. Neither George nor I had anyone to write to us, and Arthur enlisted Marian to take us in as brothers as well. She wrote us as faithfully as she did Arthur," related Thomason, reaching across to pat Mrs Kendrick's hand. "And it was about that time that we began to devise the cipher with which you have recently been introduced. We used it as a way to while away the time.

"Arthur and I had begun to talk of leaving the Navy when our service was ended and striking out on some venture together. George had always planned to stay with the Navy until his retirement and had assumed that we two had the same plan. It cut him to the quick to learn that we had not that intention and from that time, he slowly began to draw even further away from us.

"But he had not space to draw away aboard ship and was brought into constant contact with us. And he had not time to do it either, for we were on our return from our Indian post. It was a poor time for the voyage for we encountered heavy seas, strong winds, and vicious squalls that near tore the mast from our ship. We put into port to wait out the worst of the storms and after two days of clear weather, we all thought it had passed. We resumed sail around the Cape only to encounter the worst storm of them all. We were run aground on some rocks and the ship began to flounder. We attempted to save the ship, but were forced to abandon ship.

"The small boats were ground into the rocks by the pounding of the surf and we were left with only pieces of wreckage to cling to as we attempted to gain the shore. The majority of the ship's company were lost, with only a few of us washed up on the beach by the water. George and I were among the few survivors. Arthur was lost forever beneath the angry sea.

"Somehow George had emerged from the wreckage and the seas unscathed, while I was not nearly so lucky. My hands had been cut severely by lines as we attempted to prevent the ship from capsizing completely and my leg had been badly broken when I was run up against the rocks. My wounds became infected and for some days I hovered on the verge of death, but slowly I began to recover.

"Hardly an hour after my fever had broken, George was at my bedside asking after Arthur. In my exhaustion, I answered his questions with information that I realized only later that Arthur had never shared with our friend. Now I only wish that I had never recovered to give George that information," Thomason declared with fervour, "for then he should never had cause to come after you, my dear Marian."

"What reason would Trumper have to come after Mrs Kendrick?" Holmes inquired sharply. Based on the information he had shared with me the previous day, while we made our inquiries, I knew that he was well aware of the reasons, and I knew that he suspected that Mrs Kendrick had no idea of the true motivation behind the actions of George Trumper and his accomplice Hancock.

"I don't know if you were ever told this, Marian," said Thomason, taking up her hand, "but your father and uncle would never had need worked more than a year in their lives had they not wished it. Your brother also had never needed turn his hand to anything after his first year in the Navy, for there exists some small fortune in their names."

"Surely you jest," Mrs Kendrick exclaimed in surprise.

"I have at times wished that the fortune never existed," Thomason told her, "but it is truth."

"I can assure you that he speaks the truth," spoke Holmes, withdrawing some pages from the book he had been reading earlier. He had secreted them there so that he might have them at hand, knowing well that they would be needed. "It is rare for a family that has been seafaring for generations not to contain at least one who has turned at some point to piracy. Your family is no exception," he continued, passing across the pages to her. "Your ancestor James Corlett was a pirate in the Indian Ocean for some years before returning to his home and family on the Isle of Man with a fortune in gold and precious jewels."

"This ancestor of yours," Thomason resumed, "had grown up the poor son of a fisherman and had gone to seek his fortune on the high seas. He married and had children by a local woman, but was a-sea for much of their childhoods; he returned to find them grown to adulthood. James Corlett's own son was of the type that he abhorred above all; anxious for the fortune and with no appreciation of what James Corlett held dear, the sea. Not being an uneducated man, he took his problem to one of the Isle's judges and the judge came up with a solution. Legal documents were drawn up stating that only those heirs who spent at least a year in the sea's service could draw upon the fortune, and only then as much as they needed to live on, until such time as the blood-line was cut. Then the last heir should receive the entire remaining sum to give to whom he would."

"I have no shortage of cousins upon the island," Mrs Kendrick said in shock, "surely…"

"Aye," said Thomason, "but none of their families has stayed with the sea. Yours is the only branch to have sustained the sea service up until this time."

"The documents are quite legal," Holmes said, passing across several pages for her to read. "And your uncle currently is the only family member drawing upon the fortune. Your brother would have been eligible for the entire sum upon your uncle's death, for when your father died leaving only daughters, the blood-line was cut, as none of you could pursue sea service. But your father had made him heir, legally leaving the fortune to him unless your uncle offered up objection, which he has never done."

Mrs Kendrick took the documents but did not read them. She glanced at them briefly and then looked up, her gaze wandering between the three of us. "Arthur, though," Thomason went on gruffly, "never wanted it all. He considered himself as blood to you and your family and had planned to draw only what he needed to sustain himself, leaving the rest as it was for future generations to draw upon in the same manner."

"Why had I not heard before this that my uncle was ill?" Mrs Kendrick asked in concern. It was a logical conclusion on her part.

"He's not ill," Holmes assured her, "merely growing quite old and infirm. This Trumper and his accomplice Hancock knew, however, that they should have to make their move before the old man died, for after your brother's death, he made his intentions to leave the fortune to be distributed among various charities well known."

"They've been planning for some time," said Thomason, "and it is only lately that they have begun to set events in motion. George Trumper was to act as Arthur, the task being simplified by the physical resemblance that they bore to one another and the intimacy with which we knew one another those years ago."

"Who then is this Hancock? Aside from being the husband of my landlady's sister," Mrs Kendrick inquired.

"He is an infamous barrister residing in Portsmouth," Holmes informed her. "Trumper was forced to involve him to resolve the legal issues surrounding claiming the fortune in exchange for a portion of it. Unfortunately for Trumper, Hancock is not a slipshod in his work, crooked though he is. What Hancock pointed out, much to Trumper's displeasure, is that you have, in fact, fulfilled the necessary sea-service and the blood-line has not been cut."

"In fact," said I, unable to suppress the comment or the accompanying grin, "it is still flourishing."


	19. Part III Chapter III

At these revelations, Mrs Kendrick looked of two minds, unsure of whether to laugh or cry. For a moment I feared that she should either faint or go into hysterics, but she recovered herself quickly. "I suppose that it is rather lucky that events transpired as they did then," she noted, still slightly breathless with the shock of it all, "for the Royal Navy only began to use women as nurses a few years ago, and I had only barely finished serving out my first year when I first met my husband."

"However things have not been nearly so providential for Trumper and his associates," Holmes commented. "For as they found upon planning their attempt to gain control over the fortune, you and your uncle are now the sole remaining family members that may draw upon the funds. Should your children decide not to pursue some form of sea-service, you will be the last of the blood-line and the fortune will go to your heirs."

"In fact," Thomason added, "it was their inquiries that led your uncle to realize that you had fulfilled the requirements of the inheritance. He wrote to tell you of it, but the letter was intercepted."

"No good," Mrs Kendrick recalled, "K now it."

"Exactly," Thomason interjected. "Oh, but I am glad to see that you received all the letters I sent. I had feared that they would not get through to you, for I could not generally deliver them myself, lest George discover that I was onto him."

"We received the four," Holmes assured him, "although we determined their full meanings only yesterday."

"I regret to say that I did not recognize the code immediately," Mrs Kendrick told him, "else they should have been deciphered far earlier. I did not even think of it when I saw the notes, for it has been so long since last I used it, and the indications that we had once used not the same as in these notes. If only I had…"

"Only four?" cried Thomason in dismay, interrupting the lady. "I know that you have certainly received the message that I delivered myself to the doctor's home, for you knew how to contact me, but that means that you came into possession of only three others, when there was more than twice that number that you should have had."

"We received enough information that I was able to determine what was at stake and fill in the missing links between the information to know nearly the whole thing," Holmes assured the old sailor. "Had Mrs Kendrick not been so close to the matter, and had I not withheld information from her, she should herself have likely figured out the difficulty, though she would have been unable to take the necessary actions to prevent disaster."

"Have you acted then?" demanded Thomason fairly jumping to his feet. "If you have acted wrongly, then you have likely ended it all!"

"I needed hardly take action at all," Holmes assured him, "for natural events have contrived to keep Trumper from being able to act. Even he cannot take action when he is confined aboard ship."

"Of course," said Mrs Kendrick with a laugh. "No man, not even a captain, is able to disembark ship when it is under quarantine."

And with a sudden flash of clarity I understood. The epidemic that had cost me so much trouble had begun in the east of the city, the area where the docks were located and ships returning to London from the east would first encounter the English population. City officials were anxious to prevent another outbreak and to keep other areas of the country safe, so it was not unexpected that quarantine orders would be issued to all ships that left the same ports, preventing them from docking until they had been proved to carry no disease.

"Aye," agreed Thomason, dismay still in his voice, "but messages may be passed. Trumper still remains with the Navy and had managed to secure a posting to the ship where his friend and accomplice is captain. If they learn that we have discovered them and will reveal them, they will act against us the only way they may. Trumper and the captain, Brenner, will act against Doctor Kendrick, while their shore-bound accomplices will act against you here and against the old man. I ask again, what actions have you taken?"

Sherlock Holmes's posture did not change by so much as a single muscle. If he had any misgivings about his actions, or any doubt as to their outcome, he did not reveal any of them to us, and when he spoke, his voice was as calm and steady as I had ever heard it. "I am not without connections," said he, "and upon the steadfastness of these men I would stake my own life.

"You may well have just done that, sir," Thomason replied with perfect seriousness. "For it is no longer a secret that what George and his accomplices desire is here with you. If they learn they have been discovered, they will come here in search of it."

"I am not merely some object," Mrs Kendrick objected rightly. "And whatever plans have been set in motion, I insist upon being a part of them. There are more lives than just mine at stake in this." She was right, not only her life, but the lives of all her family depended on what actions we would now take.

I began softly, "There is nothing…"

"There is nothing more than may be done at this point," interjected Holmes. "There is nothing more that any of us may do until we have received word from my associates that all has been taken care of. Any rash action on our part would be the undoing of us all."

The clock began to strike the hour just as Holmes concluded his speech and Thomason turned toward it with a start. "I must take my leave from you now," the sailor stated, "else I be reported absent from my station. I leave you, Mr Holmes, and you, Doctor Watson, in charge of all I have worth guarding, the life of a dear friend."

Holmes nodded solemnly as the man collected his walking stick from near the door and shuffled off into the corridor. It was poor form for Holmes not to show the man out, and I rushed to do it. At the door, Thomason turned to me and grasped my hand. "Take care of her, doctor," he repeated gruffly, "for I promised Arthur that I should see her safe if it was the last thing I should ever do." I assured him once more that we would do everything in our powers to keep Mrs Kendrick from coming to any harm.

I returned up to our rooms with nothing but questions remaining. Although all things should have been clear, I was not satisfied with all that had been said. Why was the multi-layered cipher needed if both Trumper and Hancock knew all? Surely it was too cumbersome for simple use between the two of them. How had Trumper kept abreast of things if he had been at sea with Doctor Kendrick? What actions had Sherlock Holmes taken against Trumper?

Both Holmes and Mrs Kendrick were sitting in silence, neither one appearing ready to be the first to break the silence. I took the task upon myself, saying, "Surely the story is not finished here."

"No, Watson," replied Holmes seriously, "it is not."

I waited to see if he would be forthcoming with the rest of the details, but Holmes said nothing further. Instead he drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his long fingers around them, appearing deep in thought. For a case that was so nearly resolved, I did not see what further cause for deliberation there was, but did not make so bold to say so. Holmes would reveal his thoughts to us when it suited him, and he could not be pushed to do so before he was ready. I had long since learned that and had given up trying to force the issue.

Mrs Kendrick, however, was either unaware of this characteristic of Holmes's or she was determined to press him until he had revealed all he knew. "Mr Holmes," she began entreatingly, "there is nothing now to be gained by withholding information. Surely it is better if all is revealed."

"Except perhaps the delay of action," Holmes muttered. I was standing close and still I could barely distinguish the words. Mrs Kendrick, seated on the opposite side of the fire, had no chance and her face revealed that she had not been able to determine what Holmes had responded.

"There are a few things that have not yet fallen into place," said I, attempting to excuse Holmes. I knew nothing about what action he was attempting to prevent, for he had not shared his plans with me, but I trusted that he had reason for what he had done and what he was continuing to do. I hoped fervently that my trust would not be betrayed.

"I cannot profess to understand," replied Mrs Kendrick with a sigh, "for I am sure that Mr Holmes still knows more than he is willing to reveal to us."

"There is generally a method to his madness," I assured her. It felt strange to be discussing my friend as though he were not in the room, though he sat beside me, but Holmes himself did not move so much as a muscle as we spoke. He had lapsed into a state of deep concentration and would be disturbed by very little so long as he could maintain his high level of mental activity.

"Would you care for some breakfast?" I asked Mrs Kendrick, aware that Holmes would not think of his own physical needs until he had wound his problem to a conclusion.

"No, thank you," she replied, much to my surprise, "I think that I would rather sift through things at this juncture. There is so much that I was never made aware of."

"Of course," I assured her, watching as she leaned her head back against her chair and closed her eyes. It was unlike her thinking posture of earlier, and I could not help but wonder what thoughts now occupied her mind. No doubt she was worried for her husband, held captive by the potential of disease aboard ship with men who were his enemies.

I well remembered my own unease when I thought my own wife in danger, and was inclined to offer comfort to her, but she had made it clear that she did not much care for conversation at this juncture and I did not want to add to her worries in any way by inadvertently saying the wrong thing.


	20. Part III Chapter IV

"This time, Watson," Holmes commented quietly, stretching out his lanky frame, "I am not entirely sure that your silence was appreciated."

"And yet you should have been angry with me if I had disturbed you needlessly," I protested.

"Quite correct," said Holmes, "and yet I find myself now wishing that you had, in fact, provided me with some distraction, for I have spent a fruitless half an hour going over my plans and actions only to decide that I was right in all I have done. That half hour could better have been put to other uses."

"Had you cause to doubt?" I inquired.

"No," Holmes told me with a sigh, "and yet still I was led into doubt by the passion of Thomason. No, my dear Watson," Holmes repeated, "I am glad that I have acted as I have, for to have hesitated would have meant victory had been handed to our opposites."

"What events have you set in motion?"

"All will be revealed in time," Holmes told me with a brief glance at Mrs Kendrick, who still sat with eyes closed, thinking her own thoughts.

I felt useless. Never before in our cases had Holes proved so evasive with his answers and so tight with his information. Always before I had managed to glean some small piece of information that had, if not making things clear, given me some feeling of purpose or sense of control. This time, however, Holmes was holding his cards close to his chest and not revealing them even to me. "Is there nothing that we may do?" I asked quietly.

Holmes sighed. "There are a great many things that could be done, Watson," answered Holmes, "but we may do none. As Thomason said, by acting wrongly we would invite disaster down upon us. Perhaps tomorrow the time will come where we may take action, but for now we must wait."

It was a long wait that we three passed in silence, the weight of immobility pressing down upon us. Several times did Holmes start up from his chair toward the door, but each time he reversed course and returned to his seat by the fire. I made no comment of the strange half-flights and neither did Mrs Kendrick, who had taken her hand to Holmes's handkerchiefs, endeavouring to embellish them with his monogram. Holmes, although usually averse to such affectations, allowed her to proceed without a word.

The clock had just struck four when there came a violent ringing of the bell. Holmes flew to the door, too anxious to wait for the pageboy to answer it and show up the visitor, if they were, in fact, destined for our apartment. When he returned, he was alone, clutching a message in his hand.

"What is it?" I demanded.

"The time has come for action," Holmes declared, his muscles tensed, "and yet we must still bide our time. This message is from our friend Thomason, who has learned that the ship upon which the good Doctor Kendrick is aboard has docked only this past hour in the Portsmouth harbour."

"They had thought to return by way of Liverpool," Mrs Kendrick noted, speaking to us for the first time since that morning.

Holmes all but ignored the interruption. "For the moment we still hold the upper hand. The situation is at an impasse, for we may not act upon the conspirators while they remain in Portsmouth and they may not act upon us while we remain in London."

"But, Holmes, surely…"

And still he continued, brazenly speaking over my attempted objection. "While we are not constrained by the rigidities of naval law, we are far better served to remain here and have the enemy come to us. Those men that Trumper and Hancock have employed to watch over you, Mrs Kendrick, here in London, are not privy to so much information as we are."

"Holmes," I interjected, more firmly this time.

"What is it, Watson?" Holmes asked languidly, turning his sharp eyes to me. Excitement was written on his every feature.

"I…" I found myself unable to get past that initial word. I had broken into his stream of words without clear idea what I should say when he stopped, for I had not anticipated being able to slow the rushing torrent of information.

"Yes," said Holmes dismissively, "well, as I stated, the men that Trumper and Hancock have hired are merely mercenaries. That, Watson, is the reason for the multi-layered enciphering system. They must have been acting as conduits for the two for quite some time, if, as Thomason indicated, we are missing nearly double the number of messages that we should have had.

"You see, Watson, why we must bide our time here and wait for them to come to us, rather than us rushing off in pursuit of them?" Holmes asked, as if all had been explained to a child.

But although I understood several more points than I had, I still could not see a reason why the authorities in Portsmouth should not be telegraphed and the villains apprehended before any danger could come of their schemes. Failing that, I could also see no reason for Holmes not to board a train bound for Portsmouth and deal with the men directly. But I knew Holmes well enough to trust that his scheme, whatever it was, had been carefully planned.

Rather than answer, I sighed. I did not understand, but my pride would not allow me to admit as much when Holmes clearly felt he had clarified the situation beyond what was necessary. His air while delivering his earlier speech had clearly shown that he felt it was impossible not to understand his logic. But not all were graced with the mental capacities of Sherlock Holmes, and I, unfortunately, was not one of them.

"Perhaps then I will see Mrs Hudson about dinner," I noted after a moment. Holmes waved his hand dismissively, crossing over to his desk and beginning to root happily about in one of his many stacks of accumulated papers.

I looked instead to Mrs Kendrick. She lifted her eyes from her needlework and shrugged. I obeyed my own suggestion, descending to inquire about having dinner sent up when it was ready. But I was glad to note that I was not the only one who had not been satisfied by the scanty logic that Holmes had offered. I only hoped that when he was laying out all the facts at the end of this case the missing pieces could be recovered and fixed into the gaps that Holmes had left.

Still, now that I knew some course of action was being embarked upon, even if it was merely waiting until such time that more active interventions could be employed, I did not feel so useless as I had only a few hours ago. Once more I was assured that the case was firmly in hand, even if the hands were not my own.


End file.
